The Rescue
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! What happens when Frank goes to a survival training camp sponsored by the Network and leaves Joe behind?
1. Default Chapter

"You just don't get it, do you?" blond headed Joe Hardy demanded angrily his blue eyes flashing sparks.  
  
"Oh, I get it!" countered eighteen year old Frank Hardy. It was times like these when he had the crazy notion his brother was more than a year younger than himself. How anyone could be so bull-headed was beyond him!  
  
At seventeen, Joe had endured more than most people twice his age. He had watched his childhood sweetheart die in a terrorist bombing; been kidnapped; brainwashed; tortured; and hospitalized more times than he cared to remember and here his brother was telling him he was too young and inexperienced to attend a survival training camp sponsored by the Network, a secret agency which handled terrorist activity concerning the free world.  
  
"You're not going and that's final!" Frank ended the discussion, staring stonily at Joe with his brown eyes.  
  
"Why not?" demanded Joe, not giving up. Frank wasn't his father and that argument would get him nowhere. "You're going."  
  
Frank ran a hand tiredly through his brown hair and turned on his heel. He had told Joe every reason he could think of why he could not go. Every reason but one, he conceded silently. He straightened his six foot one frame and walked out of Joe's bedroom, through the connecting bathroom and into his own room, closing the door behind him. How could he tell Joe the real reason he didn't want Joe to go to the special camp was because it was a trap.  
  
Their contact in the Network had let slip that the training session would be very real. Joe hadn't caught the slippage, but Frank had. And when Joe had gone down to check out some new devices which had been invented to help in the war against terrorism, Frank had cornered the Gray Man, a man who dressed unobtrusively in gray to blend in with his surroundings, and demanded the truth.  
  
It had taken a bit of "persuasion", an act that Frank normally abhorred but when his brother's life was at stake, he was not above committing. The camp's location and occupants had been purposefully "leaked" to the enemy.  
  
After the brutality and extreme loss of life in a terrorist attack the previous year against Americans at an embassy in France, the president had ordered the leader of the Assassin's brought down...at any cost.  
  
"You're sending all these men to their deaths?" Frank had demanded, more in outrage than shock. He knew from working odd jobs for the Network that sacrificing lives for what was considered the greater good was an acceptable loss.  
  
"Our agents know this could be a suicide mission," the Gray Man defended himself.  
  
"But you weren't going to tell us," Frank pushed.  
  
"Our source said the only thing that would induce the leader to put in an appearance would be the presence of you and Joe," came the startling revelation.  
  
"Why?" demanded Frank, backing the Gray Man into a corner, literally.  
  
"Word is out that all captured Assassins are a direct result of you and your brother," the Gray Man answered. "That right hook of Joe's is the reason we were able to capture Assassin's alive and question them."  
  
"So, Joe's really the bait," Frank accused in disgust.  
  
"No," the Gray Man denied. "But he is the icing on the cake."  
  
"No," Frank had said then.  
  
"No? What do you mean 'No'?"  
  
"I mean, Joe is not going. I'll go. They probably won't know one Hardy form the next," Frank continued. "But I will not let you use him as bait."  
  
"And how will you prevent it? Knowing the truth won't keep him from attending," the Gray Man replied smugly.  
  
"No, but Dad knowing the truth would," Frank countered, his brown eyes hard as they stared onto the Gray Man's pale ones.  
  
"You won't tell him," the Gray Man responded a tad nervously. Fenton Hardy, formerly of the New York City Police Department and currently world renown private investigator had connections of which even the Gray man was envious.  
  
"Think not?" Frank asked him seriously. "Before I'll let you use my brother as bait I will confess every mission Joe and I ever did for the agency to him."  
  
The Gray Man stared Frank in the eyes, willing him to back down. Eyes hard as stone, Frank returned the look until the Gray Man's eyes fell. "Fine," the Gray Man snarled. "I'll tell Joe only those eighteen years of age and older will be allowed to participate."  
  
Frank nodded his acquiesce and turned to leave. "One thing," Frank was halted before he reached the door. "What happens to Joe if you don't survive?"  
  
The Gray Man's words echoed in Frank's head as he sat down on his bed. Joe had tried every argument Frank could have imagined and one or two he never would have thought of, to get Frank to help him sneak into the camp. His most convincing argument, had this not been a trap, had been the training could save his life at some point in time.  
  
Keeping the truth from Joe was becoming harder with each passing day but Frank was determined Joe would never find out. Iola Morton, Joe's sixteen year old petite girlfriend, had been killed in a bombing at the Bayport Mall. The bomb had been planted in the Hardy's yellow convertible at the bequest of the Assassin's leader on an attempt to curb Fenton Hardy's activities.  
  
Joe and Iola had gotten into a "tiff" and Iola had snatched Joe's car keys and stalked out of the mall and to the car with Joe in close pursuit. However, he had not reached her before the explosion. Frank closed his eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks even as a wave of guilt washed over him.  
  
He knew Joe didn't feel the same way but the fact remained; had Iola lived, Joe would have died. Joe lived with that guilt everyday. Frank did too, but his was the guilt of gratitude that Joe had lived instead of Iola. Maybe this will help ease the pain, baby brother, Frank thought, laying back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling.  
  
Frank bit his bottom lip and winced as the sound of drawers slamming could be heard coming from Joe's room. Joe was lucky their mom and aunt had gone to the grocery store. Neither would have hesitated to let him know frustration and anger were not to be taken out on the furniture.  
  
If he only knew, Frank thought. Nothing on earth could stop him from attending. Frank shuddered. Knowing Joe's propensity to act before thinking. Joe would be dead the first day or worse: captured and tortured. Both he and Joe were privy to high-level classified information. Heck! he thought. We even know who is in charge of the Network! A scary thought considering the people who knew could be counted on one's fingers.  
  
Frank's bedroom door burst open and he looked over at his brother's six foot athletic frame fill the doorway. "Let's go," Joe said.  
  
"Where to?" Frank asked, sitting up in puzzlement.  
  
"We're meeting Vanessa and Callie in thirty minutes," Joe reminded him.  
  
Frank's eyes widened as his mouth dropped open. "I forgot!" he gasped.  
  
"Maybe you're too forgetful to go to the camp," Joe served up the cheap shot but was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. His blue eyes met Frank's brown ones in apology. "I guess I'm just jealous," he confessed. "You're right, as usual. If I sneaked in I might be mistaken for an enemy. It's just...why did the Gray Man have to tell us all about the camp knowing I wasn't going to be allowed to go because of my age?"  
  
"He was telling me," Frank fibbed. No way would he ever tell Joe what had transpired after he had left the room! "You were just there with me."  
  
"If you say so," Joe responded sourly, dropping his arm back to the doorknob. "Step on it," he added. "You know the girls hate it when we keep them waiting."  
  
"Aren't we picking up Callie first?" Frank asked in surprise when Joe missed the turn to the Shaw's house.  
  
"Callie and Vanessa went shopping earlier," Joe replied. "They just went back to Vanessa's afterward."  
  
"And you know this how?" Frank asked, lifting a brow.  
  
"By talking to Vanessa on the phone while you were busy deciding what to pack for the survival training camp," Joe answered, his tone a little off.  
  
"I thought you realized I was right about your not going," Frank said, catching the bitterness.  
  
"Just because you're right doesn't mean I have to like it," Joe pointed out. "I can't help the way I feel."  
  
"Would you rather I didn't go either?" Frank demanded, mentally kicking himself for asking. What would he do if Joe said yes?  
  
Joe thought it over, causing Frank several minutes of agony. Finally, Joe answered with a sigh. "No. At least one of us should have some fun."  
  
"It's not going to be fun," Frank corrected him, but Joe wasn't buying it.  
  
"Yeah, right," Joe said, rolling his eyes. "And being a detective is boring. Give me a break!" he exclaimed. "You're going to have so much fun."  
  
"Well, at least you'll get to spend some time with Vanessa," Frank told him. "I won't get to see Callie for two whole weeks!"  
  
"No, I won't," Joe said, frowning. "Vanessa is going to a cartoon convention in Japan with her mom. They're leaving the same day as you and won't be back until the first of August."  
  
"That's a super-long convention considering it's only the first of July," commented Frank.  
  
Joe shot him a sour look. "Mrs. Bender decided to spend some vacation time there," he informed Frank.  
  
"So, you and Callie can hang out together," Frank suggested.  
  
"Are you giving me permission to steal your girl?" Joe teased, his blue eyes twinkling.  
  
"Don't get smart, Funny Boy," retorted Frank, clipping Joe lightly on the shoulder.  
  
Joe chortled as he pulled the van to a stop in the Bender's drive. "Come on, brother mine," he said, opening his door. "Enjoy your last date with Callie."  
  
Frank glanced over at Joe before opening his door. Would this be his last date with Callie? he wondered. As the time for his departure neared, he grew more nervous. The Gray man had deemed it a suicide mission. Perhaps, it is time to make out a will, Frank decided. Tonight before I go to bed. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Right on time," greeted the tall blond who answered the door when Frank knocked. "I'm impressed."  
  
"We aim to please," Joe replied, stepping around Frank and leaning in to give the blue-gray eyed beauty a kiss.  
  
"Geez!" groaned Frank playfully a minute later. "Do I have to call the fire department?"  
  
Joe and Vanessa Bender separated. Joe's cheeks were flushed by his brother's implication but Vanessa grinned cheekily at Frank. "Does this mean you aren't going to kiss Callie?'  
  
"He better," growled another blond headed girl from behind Vanessa. Vanessa stepped aside and let the two boys enter the house.  
  
Frank smiled at the brown-eyed girl before him. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a pale blue peasant blouse with her hair put up in a pony tail. As far as Frank was concerned, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She held her head high and her facial structure reminded Frank, not for the first time, of a Greek Goddess.  
  
"Well?" seventeen year old Callie Shaw demanded, tapping her foot a bit impatiently. "I'm waiting." Frank pulled her into his arms to comply.  
  
Joe grabbed Vanessa's hand and led her into the living room, knowing Frank would take longer than he had since he would be leaving in just two more days. Joe frowned. Two days! Vanessa was leaving too. And for longer!!!  
  
He sank down onto the sofa and pulled his seventeen year old girlfriend down onto his lap. "Mmm," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him as he nuzzled her neck. "You're awfully frisky this afternoon."  
  
"I just realized I won't get to see you again until August," Joe responded in a forlorn voice.  
  
"A little time apart might not be such a bad thing," said Vanessa's mother, Andrea Bender as she entered the living room dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a tee shirt which said, "Start kissing. I'm the BOSS."  
  
"It certainly isn't a good thing," Joe retorted, looking into the face that so resembled the girl he loved and held.  
  
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're just seventeen. That's too young to be considering tying yourself to the same person." She held up a hand to ward off the heated protests which she knew was headed her way.  
  
"You two have been dating each other exclusively since we moved to Bayport," she continued. "Neither of you are ready to make a permanent commitment to each other and that's the way it should be. But, neither of you will be able to make an informed choice should the time come if you have nothing with which to base your decision."  
  
"You want us to date other people?" Vanessa demanded, appalled.  
  
OH NO! Frank's mind screamed as he and Callie entered the room in time to hear Vanessa's outburst. If he did not return form his mission and Joe were forced to break up with Vanessa....Frank swallowed, afraid of what would happen to Joe's sanity if he lost two people he cared so much about at the same time.  
  
"Of course I want you to date other people," Mrs. Bender affirmed. "But I'm not cruel. I'll be satisfied with a little time away from each other so you two can access how you really feel."  
  
All four teens let out an audible sigh. "You had me worried there," Joe told Mrs. Bender with a weak smile. Vanessa hugged Joe tighter then released him and stood up.  
  
"Come on, let's get a move on or we're going to be late," Vanessa urged Joe to his feet.  
  
"Late for what?" Frank asked, He didn't know what Vanessa was talking about. As far as he knew, they were just going to hang out...maybe go to the beach. He looked over at Joe who shrugged. Apparently he was just as mystified.  
  
"You'll find out," Callie told him, slipping an arm through his and pulling him back to the front door with Vanessa and Joe following close behind.  
  
"Give me the keys," Vanessa demanded of Joe, holding her hand out when they reached the van.  
  
Grinning good-naturedly, Joe pulled the keys from his pants pocket and dropped them onto her upturned palm. He opened the driver's door and waited until she had climbed in and buckled her seat belt before closing it. He hurried to the passenger side and climbed in, noting Frank and Callie had already buckled up in back and were now holding hands.  
  
"Okay, where are we going?" Joe demanded after Vanessa had passed the turn off to go downtown as well as the one to the beach.  
  
"Shh!" Vanessa ordered him. "Lean back, close your eyes and I'll tell you when we get there."  
  
"You too," Callie ordered Frank whose brown eyes were alight with curiosity.  
  
Frank could tell Joe was prepared to argue but he didn't want to spoil their fun. "Do as they say, Joe," Frank instructed his little brother. "Face it. We've been kidnapped by pros," he added, glancing teasingly at Callie who blushed.  
  
"And don't you forget it," growled Vanessa playfully as Joe did as he was told.  
  
"Don't we get a clue?" Joe demanded, his eyes closed.  
  
Vanessa looked in the rearview mirror at Callie who shrugged. "Okay, we'll give you one clue," she caved in. "We're going to a place where you can both do something you've always wanted to do, but never had the time."  
  
"A little R&R?" Frank guessed only to receive a light swat form Callie.  
  
"No, Silly," Callie said with a small giggle. "It's an active something."  
  
"Ah, two clues," Joe inserted smugly. "Let's see, we've been hang gliding, flying, ballooning, sailing, swimming."  
  
"Skating, rock-climbing, dancing, biking..." Frank picked up the string of activities he and Joe had already done.  
  
"Enough!" Callie shouted before Frank or Joe could continue. "We already know what you guys have done."  
  
Joe and Frank fell silent, each going over every active thing they had done and trying to remember what it was they wanted to do. Of course! Both boys' eyes flew open at the same time as they chorused, "Bungee-Jumping!"  
  
Callie groaned in defeat. "When will we learn to keep our mouths shut?"  
  
"Ah, this is great!" Joe enthused. "Where at? I thought Pete's was the only place in Bayport and he shut down last fall."  
  
"It's not in Bayport," Vanessa admitted. They knew what it was, they might as well know the rest. "They're having a festival in Conover," she informed them, naming a city about forty miles northwest of Bayport. "Bungee Jumping is one of the scheduled activities."  
  
"The festival starts this afternoon at three and lasts all weekend," Callie picked up. "We thought we could hang around until at least ten before heading back home."  
  
"Sounds like fun," Frank agreed. "But what's the festival for?"  
  
"For the fourth of July, silly," Callie told him, leaning over and rubbing his nose with her own. "Apparently, it's an annual event that started four years ago to bring tourism to the town."  
  
"I've never heard of Conover," Joe said.  
  
"Neither has a lot of people," Vanessa told him. "If you look at a map, and it's listed, it's just a spot."  
  
"What do you mean, 'and it's listed'?" Frank asked, curious.  
  
"We had to look at three different maps before we found one with Conover on it," explained Callie.  
  
"That's little," Joe asserted, shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
"What else is this festival going to have?" Frank asked.  
  
"The brochure said wall climbing, flight simulation, bungee jumping, ballooning, arts and crafts, ethnic foods, live music, and more," Callie told them what she remembered.  
  
"And they hold this every year over the fourth?" Joe asked. "But Monday is the fourth."  
  
"It's held on the first weekend of the month," Vanessa clarified.  
  
"Cool," Joe said, smiling. "This should be fun."  
  
The four arrived in Conover and after about thirty minutes found a place to park the van for the afternoon. "This place is packed!" Callie observed. "I thought we would never find a place to park."  
  
"I know," Vanessa agreed. "With all the people running around, I was afraid I might hit someone."  
  
"Well, when we leave, I'll drive," Joe offered and took the keys from Vanessa who was more than happy to relinquish the task.  
  
"Where to first?" Callie asked, looking around.  
  
"The Bungee Jump," Frank answered even though he could see Joe's eyes sliding to a booth offering Grecian delicacies. "If Joe doesn't jump before he fills up on food, he won't get too."  
  
"True," Joe admitted with a regretful sigh before turning away from the menu he was staring at which sat in front of the Greek booth. "Lead on."  
  
Frank asked one of the persons at the festival headquarters where the Bungee-Jump was located and was directed to the end of the booths on the south side of town. Frank and the others looked south and up and saw an enormous machine.  
  
"Oh, well," Joe said, trying not to sound disappointed. "We should have known it wouldn't be a natural jump at a festival."  
  
"I'm sorry," Vanessa apologized. "We never imagined it wouldn't be off a bridge or cliff."  
  
"It's cool," Joe assured her. "It can be practice for the real thing."  
  
"Joe's right," Frank put in. "Besides, this is safer and we should have plenty of time after we've finished to check out the rest of the festival."  
  
They made their way down to the end of the street and joined the line of people waiting for a turn. Finally, they reached the head of the line. Frank grinned at the eager look on Joe's face. "Go on," he told Joe. "You're the one who got me wanting to do this in the first place."  
  
Joe needed no second urging. He stepped up to the stand, paid his fee and was outfitted for the jump. After a few basic instructions, the machine lifted Joe high into the air. Joe stepped to the edge and, following instructions about posture, jumped.  
  
Frank's heart leapt into his throat when he saw Joe in a head long dive toward the pavement. All of the sudden, the rope jerked and Joe came to a forward halt as he was pulled back into the air briefly. Frank heard Joe's enthusiastic yell and took a breath, only now realizing he had been holding it.  
  
"That was awesome!" Joe exclaimed, his blue eyes sparkling as he stepped out of his gear. Frank gave a bright smile as he stepped up for his turn.  
  
After Frank, Callie, and Vanessa each took a turn, they moved to the next area, a flight simulation of a WWII bomber. Unlike the bungee jump, this line was shorter and it wasn't long before Frank and Callie entered the simulator.  
  
"Are you sure you want to go on this one?" Vanessa asked, knowing how much Joe disliked flying.  
  
Joe looked at the simulator and saw it turn upside down as sounds from a war movie could be heard. He paled a bit but nodded. "We might as well try everything," he replied.  
  
"Joe Hardy, you don't have to be brave for me," Vanessa said sternly but leaned forward and kissed his cheek to take the sting from her words. "Besides, I don't really want to do this one anyway," she added.  
  
Joe smiled at her and squeezed her hand before moving out of line and off to the side to wait for Callie and Frank.  
  
"A big fellow like you isn't brave enough to go on a ride?" jeered a blond headed man in black slacks and a pressed white shirt.  
  
Vanessa could feel Joe tense up. Putting her hand on his arm, she stared the man in the eyes. "Take a hike!" she ordered,  
  
"Ouch, the baby even has to have a girl fight his battles," the man said, his brown eyes moving to Joe's blue ones before going back to Vanessa and leering at her as he looked her over.  
  
"You just want to fight?" Joe demanded, pulling Vanessa back and getting in the man's face.  
  
"Think you can take me, pretty boy?" the man taunted.  
  
"The name is Joe Hardy," Joe said. "And I can take you down any time, any where."  
  
"But not here," said Frank, coming up behind him. No one had heard the ride stop and Frank and Callie get off. Frank nodded in the direction of an officer who had taken an interest in the exchange.  
  
"Later, Blondie," the man sneered before turning and walking away.  
  
"What a creep!" Vanessa erupted, her face flushed in anger.  
  
"True," Joe agreed with scowl which quickly turned into a smile. "But he's not worth ruining our day over. What say we go and grab something to eat?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"Nothing comes between you and your stomach," Callie teased. "But, yeah, let's try something," she agreed.  
  
They made their way back up the street, coming to a stop in front of a Chinese booth. "Something new or tried and true?" Frank asked, knowing he sounded hokie but not caring.  
  
"I'll have an egg roll," Joe said.  
  
"Just one?" Vanessa asked, her eyes widening in surprise.  
  
"Yeah," Joe admitted a bit sheepishly. "I want to try one thing from each booth."  
  
Two booths later, Joe stepped up to place his order while Frank and the girls looked at a booth filled with hand-crafted musical instruments. He ordered a cup of hot soup, paid and turned to move away but stopped when he felt something pressed into his side.  
  
He tensed as an arm came around his shoulders and he was pulled closer to his attacker. "It's been a long time," the stranger said loudly. "Keep calm and no one else has to get hurt," the man added in a whisper, the smile never leaving his chiseled face. 


	3. Chapter 3

Joe looked at the man who held him close, surprised to find it was not the man who had been heckling him earlier. This man was six foot two with straight brown hair and green eyes. He was dressed in designer shorts and wore a short sleeved shirt made of denim which hung open to reveal a rippled abdomen except for the area covered by his strong arm which held the gun hidden from view beneath the shirt against Joe's side.  
  
"Who are you?" Joe hissed as he was being led away.  
  
"Doesn't matter," the man replied. He led Joe through the throng of people and toward the parking lot.  
  
As they got further away form the crowd of people, Joe decided to make a break for it. They rounded a corner and headed toward a car that was parked illegally in the middle of the back street. Joe could see someone at the wheel, a balding man who sat looking around anxiously.  
  
It's now or never, Joe decided. The next time his right foot came down his left arm jerked up, splashing his hot soup into his abductor's face. The man screamed and dropped the gun as he reached for his face. Thank God for reflexes! Joe thought as he took off running as fast as he could until he reached the crowded area and had to slow down.  
  
He was almost back to the booth where he had last seen Frank and the girls when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Where did you disappear to?" Frank asked angrily, spinning Joe around.  
  
"Someone tried to give me a ride," Joe stated, then told him and the girls about the attempted kidnapping.  
  
"You have no idea who they were?" Frank asked, his face transforming into a scowl. He had to leave in two days. He didn't want to have to worry about Joe while he was at camp. He knew it would take all his concentration to survive once the Assassins began their assault.  
  
"I've never seen them before," Joe asserted.  
  
"Come on," Frank said, heading back to the festival's headquarters. "We'd better report this."  
  
They reached the booth and spoke with the person in charge who got on a walkie-talkie. In five minutes the town's sheriff arrived. Joe related the incident and gave a clear description of the man who had accosted him and a sketchier description of the car and driver.  
  
"Okay, let's make sure I have this right," Sheriff Rutley said. "A bright blue PT Cruiser with the driver wearing a green shirt with black hair around his head but bald on the top?" Joe nodded then the sheriff repeated the description of the other man. "At Joe's affirmation, the sheriff got on his radio to dispatch and had the operator relay the descriptions to all other officers with the warning that at least one was armed.  
  
The sheriff took down Joe's name, phone number and address. "I'm sorry this had to happen," Rutley told the teens, his brown eyes mirroring his words. "But I hope you can enjoy the rest of the festival."  
  
"We will," Joe assured him. "We aren't going to let some creep ruin our fun."  
  
"Excellent!" the sheriff beamed. "We'll be on the lookout and in the meantime, if you need any help, just latch onto one of my men or report to the festival headquarters."  
  
"We will, thanks," Frank said and led Joe and the girls away.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to leave now?" Vanessa asked, pulling his arm through hers as they walked. "I wouldn't mind a bit."  
  
"No way!" Joe asserted. "Let's go try out that flight simulator," he suggested eagerly.  
  
Frank grinned. Joe's adrenaline was pumping and he wasn't going to let anything stop him from having fun, not even his distaste of flying.  
  
When ten o'clock rolled around, none of the teens wanted to leave but, making one final stop so Joe could pick up a funnel cake, the group left the festival and headed to the van. With Joe at the wheel, they made good time back to Bayport where they stopped at the Benders to drop Vanessa off first.  
  
Joe got out to walk her to the door and bid her farewell since she and her mom had several things to do the next day and Joe wouldn't get to see her again until August.  
  
After Joe and Vanessa exited the van, Frank snuggled close to Callie. "Mmm," she murmured. "You're being awfully affectionate today," she observed.  
  
"Just realizing how much I'm going to miss you," Frank told her. OOPS! he thought, his eyes flying open as she tensed.  
  
"Miss me?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm. "I'm not going anywhere," she added sweetly.  
  
"I, uh...I am," Frank confessed, swallowing the lump which had formed in his throat.  
  
"When are you leaving?" she asked, turning to look at him with a steely gaze.  
  
"The day after tomorrow," he admitted.  
  
"And exactly when were you going to tell me?" Callie demanded. "I can understand why Joe didn't tell Vanessa he was leaving. She's leaving! But you..." she broke off as Frank started speaking.  
  
"Joe's not leaving. Just me," Frank informed her.  
  
"Wait a minute," she said, shaking her head in confusion. "Aren't your parents leaving tomorrow afternoon on a cruise? And your aunt in the morning to go and see a friend of hers in Kansas?"  
  
"Yes," Frank said with a curt nod.  
  
"You're leaving Joe home? ALONE?" she practically screamed. Callie was having a hard time accepting this. "Even after someone tried to kidnap him tonight? Do your parents know? Where are you going? Why isn't Joe going with you?"  
  
"It's a survival training camp," Frank told her, maintaining the same line he had given Joe. "Joe can't go because he's too 't you wait until next year?" Callie pushed. "What if whoever tried to kidnap him at the festival tries again? And succeeds?"  
  
Frank winced. That very nightmare had been haunting him since Joe had told him what had happened. He couldn't not go. The Gray Man would tell Joe the truth and there would be no stopping Joe. At least he stood a chance if he stayed home.  
  
"No, mom and dad don't know," Frank admitted, his face serious. "Joe will be okay. He can keep the alarm on when he is at home and you can call him everyday. Just to make sure he's okay?" he begged, looking at her hopefully. "If something happens to him, you can call Con or Chief Collig?"  
  
"I don't believe you!" Callie declared, torn between shock and indignation. "Is this thing really more important than Joe?"  
  
"Nothing's more important than Joe!" Frank snapped, then immediately bit his bottom lip as Callie's eyes narrowed.  
  
"The truth?" she demanded.  
  
Frank shook his head. "I can't," he answered. "It's top secret." He looked at her pleadingly. "Please don't tell Joe?"  
  
"When are you going to tell him?" she demanded.  
  
"Never," Frank declared. "He can't ever find out."  
  
"Why not?" she asked, then her eyes flew open. "This has something to do with Iola, doesn't it?"  
  
"Kind of," Frank admitted.  
  
"Okay," Callie agreed. "I'll keep an eye on Joe and if he gets into trouble, I'll rally the gang."  
  
"Thanks," he said before she leaned over and started kissing him.  
  
"I can't leave you two alone for a second, can I?" Joe demanded in mock seriousness, shaking his head as he stood staring at the two through the open window.  
  
Frank and Callie broke apart. "A few seconds more would have been okay with me," Frank told him.  
  
"Nope," Joe said, cheerily opening the van's door and climbing in. "You two have had enough time out."  
  
Joe drove to Callie's house then waited patiently in the van while Frank walked Callie to the door. "Be careful?" she begged, looking up into his brown eyes.  
  
"I will," he promised before leaning down and administering a long, lingering kiss.  
  
Callie hugged him tight. "Don't worry about Joe. Biff, Chet and the rest of us will take care of him."  
  
"Thanks, babe," Frank murmured against her hair. "You're the greatest."  
  
"Just don't forget that!" she warned him playfully and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too," he returned. "And don't worry. I'll only be gone for two weeks at the most," he added, praying he was speaking the truth.  
  
When Frank climbed into the passenger seat of the van, he was smiling but it didn't last long.  
  
"I guess we should head back to Conover tomorrow and see if the sheriff or any of his men found anything," Joe said, starting the van. "Maybe we'll get another glimpse of them too."  
  
"No," Frank said, frowning. "Leave those guys to the police."  
  
"But we don't even know why they tried to kidnap me," Joe pointed out. "Maybe it wasn't me they wanted. Maybe I just looked vulnerable being there alone. In which case, they may try and grab someone else tomorrow," Joe reasoned, although the vulnerability bit didn't wash with him, it might with Frank.  
  
"No," Frank repeated with a bit more force. "Leave this to the police."  
  
"Why?" Joe demanded. "We can..."  
  
"No, we can't," Frank cut him off. "I'm leaving, remember?" he asked as Joe pulled to a stop in the driveway.  
  
"You're still going?" Joe asked in a soft voice filled with hurt and disbelief. "After what happened?"  
  
"That was in Conover," Frank stated. "Keep the alarm system on and have Biff or Chet go with you when you go out. You...you'll be fine," he added, hoping Joe didn't see how much effort his last sentence had cost him.  
  
He didn't. "I see," Joe said bitterly. "Well, enjoy your course," he added, getting out of the van and slamming the door. 


	4. Chapter 4

Frank closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, Joe had already disappeared inside. He was glad his parents and aunt had gone to bed early. Knowing how observant their dad was, he was afraid a tiff between himself and Joe might convince his dad to alter plans.  
  
He locked the door; turned on the alarm; and went upstairs to his room to get ready for bed. After changing into his pajamas, just the bottom because the humidity had gotten worse, he rapped lightly on the door leading to Joe's room from his connecting bathroom. No response. Frank turned the knob and eased the door open, expecting Joe to be lying in bed trying to sleep.  
  
Instead, Joe sat on the edge of his desk, still wearing the clothes he had worn to the festival and staring out into the ever increasing cloudy night sky. Frank looked down, gave a deep sigh and bit his bottom lip before looking back at Joe who had become alerted to Frank's presence and was now looking at him curiously.  
  
"What do you want?" demanded Joe when Frank remained silent.  
  
"I don't want us to fight," Frank replied, entering the room and going to stand in front of Joe.  
  
"We aren't," Joe said stiffly.  
  
"Joe," Frank began, reaching out to put a hand on Joe's shoulder but stopping when Joe narrowed his eyes dangerously. Frank let his hand drop and started speaking once more. "Joe, do you really think you're going to be in danger?" Frank thought perhaps he could reason with Joe.  
  
Joe thought about it, then shook his head. "If these guys do show up here, do you think you and Biff and Chet couldn't handle it?" Again, Joe shook his head.  
  
"Then what purpose would my missing this training camp serve?" Frank concluded, watching Joe closely.  
  
Joe hated it when Frank looked at him like that. It was an excellent trait in a detective, Joe supposed, but it did make one feel like a bug under a microscope. He sighed. "None, I guess," he admitted with a wan smile. "I just wish..."  
  
"I know," Frank said, leaning down and giving Joe a quick hug. "Now, get ready for bed," he continued. "We've got to drop Auntie off at the airport in the morning; drop mom and dad off at the docks at two and then fix up a survival kit for me to take to camp. Plus, we need to see Chet and Biff to make sure they'll be available if you need them," he added, forever the protective brother.  
  
Joe smiled, showing his pearly whites with just a smidgen of cabbage stuck between two teeth. "Okay," he agreed, standing up.  
  
"I get the bathroom first," Frank told him, grinning as he left Joe's room.  
  
The next afternoon after dropping their parents off, the two boys headed to the five and ten to get the items needed for Frank's kit. When they returned home, they spread the items on the kitchen table and set about making sure they had no duplicate items which would consume valuable space.  
  
Thinking he might be on the move most of the time, Frank had gotten a fanny pack to store the items in. The first thing Frank put in the pack had not been purchased that day. It was a military issue Swiss army pocket knife. He and Joe had each received one from their father the previous year for Christmas.  
  
The next item to go into the pack was a compass followed by a signaling mirror; first aid kit; suntan lotion; insect repellent; wood matches in a waterproof matchbox; fishing line; water purification pellets; and a small lightweight frying pan for cooking. Frank zipped the pack up. The outline of the pan could be seen bulging through. "Oh well," he said with a rueful grin. "At least it won't be judged on it's aesthetic appeal." Joe broke out laughing.  
  
"I guess I had better call Callie," Frank said when Joe had quieted down.  
  
"Why don't you go see her instead?" Joe suggested.  
  
"Nah," Frank disagreed at once, wanting to spend his last day with Joe.  
  
"Go on," urged Joe. "I'm going to go upstairs and take a nap," he added, realizing Frank was trying to be nice by wanting to spend time with him instead.  
  
"Are you sick?" Frank asked at once, stepping up to Joe and putting a hand to his forehead.  
  
Joe grinned and jerked back. "No, I'm not sick," he replied, trying to make his tone agitated but failing. "I just feel lazy."  
  
Frank still looked concerned but didn't want to start an argument. "If you're sure then," he said, backing up a bit and tilting his head to the side and looking at Joe questioningly.  
  
Joe nodded. "Alright, I'll go see Callie," Frank said. "But lock the doors and turn on the alarm while I'm gone," Frank instructed. "I'll call on my cell phone when I get back."  
  
Joe waited patiently while Frank checked to make sure the front door was locked then followed him to the kitchen door and locked it behind Frank. When Frank had left the porch, Joe turned on the alarm system and headed upstairs.  
  
Frank arrived at Callie's ten minutes later. He parked the van and climbed out. He knocked loudly then waited for the door to open.  
  
"Frank!" exclaimed Callie, her brown eyes going wide when she answered the door. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I thought we could spend a little time together since I'll be leaving tomorrow," he answered.  
  
"But...but you should spend today with Joe," she told him. "Especially since you're really going to....you know."  
  
"I wanted to," he admitted. "But Joe decided to take a nap."  
  
"Joe's taking a nap with you leaving tomorrow and someone trying to kidnap him yesterday?" she demanded in disbelief. "That doesn't sound like Joe."  
  
Frank shrugged. "He said he was feeling lazy so I might as well visit you. I couldn't argue or he would suspect something. If he doesn't already," he added.  
  
"Have you called Chet and Biff yet?" Callie asked.  
  
"We did last night but Joe was with me so I couldn't tell them why I was so concerned about Joe," he said.  
  
"Well, come on inside and call them."  
  
After Frank left, Joe headed upstairs and to his dad's office. Frank may have been willing to write off yesterday as an isolated incidence but he wasn't.  
  
He logged on the internet then navigated his way to the police files. Using his dad's passwords, he searched their database for the man who had held the gun on him and the one who had tried to start a fight. He hadn't gotten a good-enough look at the driver to try and find him. Thirty minutes later, having found nothing, he moved on to the FBI website and entered the area for members only, again, using his father's passwords.  
  
Joe smiled as his search brought up a file. He was fortunate his dad had given Frank and himself his passwords and usernames for the different restricted sites. The first man he found was Nicolas Ward. He was the man who had forced Joe out of the festival at gunpoint. Joe read the file. Nicolas Ward, a.k.a. Thomas Madison, a.k.a. Jeff Sheets, a.k.a. Howard Miller; known terrorist. Status: wanted dead or alive.  
  
"A terrorist?" Joe wondered aloud, his forehead crinkling in thought. "In a little place like Conover?" He pulled up another file.  
  
Anthony Wolfe, the man who had tried to start a fight with him in front of Vanessa. Aliases included Pete Mars, Cory Winters and Steve Bradley. He was also a known terrorist whose status was wanted dead or alive.  
  
Joe reached for the phone and put in a call to the FBI. He reported the incident from the previous evening and gave the agent the names of the two men he had uncovered. Finished he hung up the phone, wondering if he should tell Frank. After considerable thought, he decided against it. Frank was headed for a camp with a multitude of Network agents to an unknown location. He would be well taken care of. As for himself, Joe assumed these men must know he and Frank freelanced for the Agency and had been taking advantage of the opportunity his and Frank's presence at the festival had warranted.  
  
He was curious, though, why two known terrorists had been in such a small town. Had they been going to attempt something with all those people there? Was someone of influence at the festival?  
  
Joe itched to return to Conover and look into the matter but the FBI were going there and would handle the matter. Joe logged off and exited his father's room, going to his own for the nap he had told Frank he was going to take.  
  
When Frank arrived home he found Joe lounging on the hammock out back. "I thought you were going to take a nap," he admonished his younger brother.  
  
"I did," Joe told him, grinning. "A short one."  
  
"Want to go out for dinner?" Frank asked. "My treat."  
  
"How can I refuse and offer like that?" Joe countered, closing the book he had been perusing and getting up. He took the book inside and left it on the kitchen table and then the two boys left.  
  
"Where to?" asked Joe.  
  
"How about the Steer?" Frank suggested. "My diet will be restricted for a bit and I'll like to hit the buffet before that starts."  
  
"Sounds good to me," agreed Joe. The two boys enjoyed a leisurely dinner then returned home and played a game of Scrabble before going to bed.  
  
The next morning, the Gray Man and an associate arrived to pick Frank up. Frank gave Joe a hug and reminded him to keep the alarm on and to stay in touch with their friends. After receiving Joe's promise, Frank climbed into the back of a white Colt and he and the two agents departed.  
  
"Have you heard if any of the Assassins know about the camp yet?" Frank asked.  
  
"Indeed," the Gray Man replied. "The FBI received an anonymous tip that two Assassins, Nicholas Ward and Anthony Wolfe, were seen in the vicinity of where the camp is being held."  
  
"I'm glad Joe's staying at home," Frank said, his face creased with worry.  
  
"I am too," admitted the Gray Man. "It's bad enough to put one of you in this situation."  
  
"Even if it's Joe they want?" Frank asked. "Who knew a right hook could be such a powerful weapon?"  
  
"You're sure he won't try to follow us?" the Gray Man demanded. "If he does, he could mess up the operation."  
  
"He won't," Frank assured him. "Oh, he did his best to convince me to help him sneak in but he finally gave up."  
  
"Are you positive?" the Gray Man asked, lifting a brow. "That doesn't sound like the Joe I know."  
  
"He has something else to occupy him right now," Frank said, thinking unhappily about the kidnap attempt. "Where is the camp being held?" he asked, changing the subject.  
  
The Gray Man shook his head. "I can't tell you that," he said and reached into his shirt pocket for a small bottle. "Take one of these," he instructed, removing one pill and handing it to Frank. Seeing Frank about to rebel he hurriedly added, "It's either this or chloroform."  
  
Frank wrinkled his nose but gave in and took the pill and popped it into his mouth, hiding it with his tongue. "Open," the Gray Man ordered, not trusting the youth.  
  
Frank groaned then swallowed the pill before opening his mouth. Satisfied, the Gray Man leaned back in his seat. As Frank's eyes began to droop the balding driver in the front seat headed out of town. 


	5. Chapter 5

Joe watched from the doorway as Frank and the Gray man were driven away. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as the car came to a stop at the stop sign before making a left. Suspicious, but unsure why, he jumped off the porch and raced for the van. He made the left turn at the stop sign and soon caught sight of the Colt. Staying back, Joe continued to follow the car.  
  
The car continued it's trek toward Conover with Joe keeping a safe distance. As they neared the small city, the driver made a turn onto a side road. Joe copied the movement, aware there was much less traffic on this road to provide him with cover. The further they drove, the less traffic seemed to abound and Joe was sure his presence would be noticed soon, if it hadn't already. Right as Joe was wondering if he should back off a couple more miles or force the car off the road, the car made a turn onto another side road. Joe followed slowly, well aware there was no way to avoid being seen if he followed too closely.  
  
Soon the road forked; each way covered with dirt and gravel. Joe easily picked up his quarry's trail by taking the road which was unsettled, thanking his lucky star it hadn't rain for some time. Joe followed the road and took the bend up ahead, slamming on his brakes in surprise. The car which had held his brother and the Gray Man was sitting in the middle of the road, the back doors wide open.  
  
Joe stopped the van and got out. No car had headed back in his direction and from what he could see, no car had driven off in the other. The dust which hovered around the still vehicles was just now beginning to settle and no one could be seen ahead.  
  
Joe headed into the woods, looking around for a sign someone had been through. He hadn't gotten far when someone jumped him from above. Joe landed on his stomach, the air knocked out of him.  
  
"You thought, perhaps, you were not seen?" sneered a voice from atop him. The weight on his back was suddenly absent and Joe began to move.  
  
"Slowly," Joe heard the voice order followed by the distinctive sound of a hammer cocking on a gun.  
  
Joe rose to his knees and saw his captor. It was the heckler from the festival: Anthony Wolfe. "I didn't see you in the car," Joe said as he got to his feet.  
  
"Probably because I wasn't," Wolfe stated. "Come on," Joe was urged forward. "You want to see your brother, don't you?"  
  
Joe was marched through the brush to a clearing on the other side. There a helicopter waited. As Joe neared, he could see his brother and the Gray Man, both unconscious, tied up in the rear. "What have you done to them?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Why nothing," Wolfe replied. "Yet. You see, you three are going to be the guests of honor at a um...party...our boss is throwing."  
  
Wolfe pushed Joe forward to where two more terrorist were standing nearby. Another was in the cock pit. "There isn't enough room for everyone," Joe observed. "Why don't I, Frank and our friend just..."  
  
Joe was silenced by a fist to his jaw. He fell back, unconscious.  
  
When Joe came to, he was in the helicopter with Frank, the Gray Man, Wolfe, and the pilot. They hadn't taken off yet, which in Joe's opinion was a great thing because he was lying on top of Frank's feet and the tip of the Gray Man's boot was digging in the recess behind his knee.  
  
"You know when they don't show up at their destination, the Network will come looking for them," Joe told Wolfe.  
  
Wolfe burst out laughing as did the pilot who paused in his task of checking his instruments. "What's so funny?" Joe demanded, slightly ruffled.  
  
"The Network knows we're here," the pilot said, turning to look at Joe. Joe couldn't get a good description of the guy other than he seemed tall and lean because the cap covered the man's hair entirely and the aviator glasses hid too much of his face. However, Joe could discern a small scar along the top of the man's lips in the right corner.  
  
"We know all about this so-called survival training camp," the pilot continued. "The Network "leaked" word that the Hardy brat who was responsible for taking out our men would be there."  
  
Joe's eyes flared and he turned his head to glare at his brother. That explained why Frank had been unwilling to cancel his trip. When we get out of this, brother dear, I'm going to kill you! Joe vowed silently.  
  
"Indeed, the Network must think we're stupid. Trying to pawn off your brother for you," Wolfe put in. "We know our enemy. We were in Conover preparing to accommodate the Network and dispose of their agents when you arrived at the festival. Had you not escaped, we would have been long gone by now."  
  
"But since you did get away, we had to eliminate the driver and take your brother and Gray hostage as well," the pilot took over once again. "Your brother was to be bait but you just delivered yourself without any effort on our part."  
  
Joe kept silent in self-disgust. How could he have been such a dunce as to walk into this? He should have known better. He should have alerted the Network; the police; someone. He should... He SHOULD have been told! Joe bit his bottom lip as his breathing deepend with his growing anger.  
  
This entire fiasco could have been avoided if Frank had leveled with him. Had Frank known? Of course, he knew, Joe answered his own question. That's why he didn't want him going. Dispense? Joe remembered what Wolfe had said. Was this to have been a suicide mission? And Frank had willingly agreed?  
  
That's it! Joe decided fiercely. We're getting out of this mess once and for all. I lost Iola to the Assassins. I won't lose Frank!  
  
The pilot started the aircraft. "Hey! What about your buddies?" Joe asked.  
  
"They are taking care of the car and your van," Wolfe informed Joe, looking back and down with an evil grin that would terrify even the Grinch. "What's the matter, Joey?" he asked in mock sympathy. "Scared?" Wolfe erupted in laughter. "Of course you are," he answered himself. "After all, you were terrified of the simulator at the festival."  
  
Wolfe turned to the pilot. "Len, let's give Joe here a memorable trip, huh?" The pilot grinned, gave a nod and lifted the chopper into the air.  
  
Every so often, the copter would rock back and forth and Joe felt his stomach fall. He knew there was nothing wrong. The turbulence was entirely for his benefit. They had been tin the air for almost half an hour when the chopper dipped dangerously to the side. With a yell, Joe went sliding toward the open door.  
  
Wolfe gave a yelp, reached back and made a mad grab for the younger Hardy. He grasped the neck chain dangling from Joe's neck but couldn't latch onto anything substantial. Joe slid out of the chopper.  
  
"Ah, damn!" Len said, righting the helicopter. "I forgot the kid wasn't buckled in."  
  
"No worries," Wolfe told him, pretending to relax. "One less Hardy to deal with." He only hoped he wouldn't have to answer for THIS mistake. 


	6. Chapter 6

Frank opened his eyes. At first, all he could see was darkness but as he grew accustomed to the dark he could make out shapes. The first shape turned into a man sitting directly across from him, gagged and bound to a chair.  
  
Frank started to stand only to realize he, himself, was in the same predicament. He pulled at his ropes but to no avail. Looking over at his companion it struck him: something had gone horribly wrong. Why else would the Gray Man be trussed up tight?  
  
As Frank moved his wrists up and down to try and loosen his bonds, the door to the room opened and a hand reached in and flipped a switch, flooding the place with light.  
  
Frank squeezed his eyes shut against the unexpected brightness then blinked a few times as he fought to re-open them. When he did, the man from the festival that had been trying to start a fight with Joe stood before him.  
  
"Well, now," Wolfe said, smiling thinly first at the Gray Man then at Frank. He stepped closer to Frank and leaned down to stare him in the eyes. "You're brother isn't too happy with you," he told Frank, watching as the boy's eyes widened in fear. He leaned over and ripped the tape from Frank's mouth. "He's not happy at all."  
  
"What do you know?" Frank sneered. "He may not be happy about your having me but he will take you down."  
  
Wolfe began laughing, A slow chuckle at first which erupted into a full blown guffaw. Another man who stood in the doorway was also cracking up. Frank's face turned red with anger but when Wolfe reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a silver neck chain sporting a medallion, it turned ashen.  
  
"Joe," Frank emitted the word as a breath. How had they gotten their hands on Joe? "Where is he?" Frank demanded, his voice sure and strong, completely opposite of the way he was feeling.  
  
"Elsewhere," Wolfe answered. "But silent. He's very stubborn, you know. He wouldn't tell us anything even though Reggie there," he indicated the large man by the door whose muscles rivaled those of the current Mr. Universe, "tried to persuade him otherwise."  
  
"If you hurt him..." Frank began only to stop when Wolfe gave another hearty laugh.  
  
"If we hurt him?" Wolfe asked, his brown eyes twinkling merrily. "Didn't I just say we had? But," he stressed the word. "But, he is still alive. It occurred to me that although he won't talk to save himself, you might."  
  
"Why hurt him?" Frank demanded. "Why didn't you come after me?"  
  
"Two reasons," Wolfe replied. "First, he was conscious, you weren't. And second," he glanced over at the Gray Man scornfully. "Did you really think we wouldn't know which Hardy had been physically preventing our agents from following suicide protocol?"  
  
Wolfe stood straight and put the gag back in Frank's mouth, "Think it over," he told Frank. "We're going to kill him regardless, but how much pain do you want him to go through before he dies?" 


	7. Chapter 7

As Joe slid out of the chopper and into the air he was sure this time he was done for, but fate had other plans for the youth. Joe saw the lake beneath him and managed to turn so he would hit feet first. He only prayed the lake was deep and his drop wasn't too high.  
  
The speed with which he fell carried him deep into the lake. When his momentum stopped, he forced himself to relax. He floated to the top and took in fresh air, thankful he had remembered to take a deep breath before hitting the water.  
  
He floated on the surface for some time, unable to swim because his hands were still tied firmly behind his back. The rope which had bound his ankles still clung to him but it was loose. Joe's fear now was that the rope would get snagged and he might be pulled under.  
  
Eventually, he came to the shore. It wasn't long before he felt wet sand on his back. Joe twisted and rolled over a couple of times. He lay still, gloating in the fact that he was still alive.  
  
Giving a silent thanks to God, Joe began working on kicking the ropes from his ankles. This done, he got to his knees and then his feet. He made his way toward the edge of the woods where he saw a group of rocks. He leaned back against these and began rubbing the rope around his wrists against the rock. By the time Joe finally managed to break free, he had dried considerable in the early afternoon sun.  
  
He sat, rubbing his wrists, wondering where he could find something to drink. He needed to get out of here and back to civilization so he could contact the Network but he knew in this humid weather, with a temperature of at least ninety-five degrees, he would have to have water before setting off. Too, he thought, waiting until later in the evening before leaving would also increase his chances of making it into a populated area.  
  
He got to his feet and headed into the brush. A little over an hour later he found some fresh water seeping from some rocks. Wahoo! Joe shouted silently. Love those high water tables! He drank his fill, wishing he had something to put the water in to take with him.  
  
He had no idea where he was at except it still had to be in the US, probably even still in New York. He had the bad feeling he had fallen into a lake in the Adirondacks. If so, no matter which way he went, it could take some time to reach civilization. But, if he kept on a straight path, or as straight as he could, he was bound to get out of there. He continued on his north-eastern course.  
  
Less than fifteen minutes later, he heard what sounded like trail bikes. Unsure of who might be on them, he climbed a tree and watched as they neared, then passed, beneath him, seemingly searching for something.  
  
He thought about attracting their attention but something urged him to keep silent. After they passed, Joe headed back to the lake in their trail. As he neared, he could hear the words of one as he spoke on a two-way radio. Joe crouched down to listen.  
  
Joe's eyes narrowed. In the tree he had had a niggling suspicion these bikers were Assassins. He had been right. Apparently, they had been looking for his body and instead, had found the ropes which had bound him as well as his prints in the sand just above the water line.  
  
They knew he was alive now and they would be hunting him. Obviously, they had a camp nearby. Frank was most likely being held prisoner there. He was fairly certain Frank was still alive, otherwise they would just have killed him instead of taking with them.  
  
Joe now had two problems: keep from being captured and rescue Frank....and the Gray Man, Joe amended wryly as an afterthought.  
  
He remained where he was and watched as the men arranged to search the area. They assumed he was no longer near the small beach by the lake and decided to begin their search further from shore. One man would remain behind to coordinate the search.  
  
Soon, all but the one man had departed. Joe hadn't been careful on his trek, never suspecting he would become prey, and knew it wouldn't take long for the men to trace his journey to the tree and back. He had to act fast. Fortunately, the beach was small and it would take only seconds to reach the man. If only he would turn away.  
  
Joe waited, chaffing with anxiety, afraid someone would return before an opportunity arose. Finally, the man turned away. Joe wasted no time. He sprinted across the open space and crashed into the man, sending his radio flying from his hand.  
  
The man reacted faster than Joe had anticipated. He elbowed Joe in the shoulder then followed through with a backhanded punch to Joe's right cheek. Joe's grip on his opponent loosened a bit and he was quickly rolled off and onto his back. Before Joe could be pinned, he brought his right leg up and kicked the man in the side. As he groaned and sank back down to the ground, Joe used both legs to lock the man's head in a scissor move. But his foe applied pressure points to the backs of Joe's knees and was quickly released.  
  
Both leapt to their feet in battle stances. Joe took the first swing but was quickly blocked. He grunted as a fist landed in his stomach. Joe retreated two steps and blocked the next two blows. Using a move he had seen on a paid infomercial, he gave one thrust with his left fist, a jab with his right, and immediately side-kicked with his right foot.  
  
His opponent went down. Joe stepped in to take another swing at the man's jaw but before he could, the man's face jerked and he swallowed. Joe lowered his hands as the man fell face down, dead.  
  
Joe bit his bottom lip but set about his business. His survival and Frank's rescue foremost in his mind, he took what he needed form the deceased Assassin. A canteen, the man's belt, a compass, a pack of cigarettes, a bandana, a pocket knife, and a pair of binoculars. Before leaving the area, he grabbed the two-way radio, gun and map which had been left on one of the rocks. He wrapped the canteen and binoculars around his neck, clipped the radio to his belt, buckled the man's belt around his waist, and stuffed the other items he had taken into his pockets.  
  
Next he grabbed a branch and swept way his prints in the sand and took off into the brush, aware that in mere minutes he would become the ultimate game. 


	8. Chapter 8

The search party returned to camp, carrying their fallen comrade. "What happened?" Wolfe demanded, his voice deceptively calm as he glared at the corpse.  
  
"Joe Hardy," was the reply. "We followed his trail but he doubled back and attacked Stark."  
  
"And where is Hardy?" Wolfe asked, sliding his gaze from the dead man to Reggie Afton.  
  
"He got away," Afton admitted. "I've already given the order for an extensive search to begin. The men are preparing now."  
  
"Find him," Wolfe ordered. "And do not return to camp without him."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Afton said, saluting. A movement which caused his muscles to ripple.  
  
Joe hid in a tree and waited until the men below had given up and picked up the dead man. He watched them leave, heading in a north-west direction. He sat, silent, for almost two hours observing the area around him. When he spied no movement save for the occasional small game scurrying by, he climbed down and went in search of a safe place to take shelter for the night.  
  
As he made his way through the forest, careful to leave as little of a trail as possible, he wondered how much time he had before a full scale search party would be launched by the Assassins. He smiled grimly, realizing one was probably already under way in Bayport. Joe would bet money Frank had asked their friends to keep an eye on him.  
  
Joe slowed down, his eyes narrowing as he spied a small opening among some rocks ahead. He made his way over, picking up a couple of rocks from the ground as he drew closer. He stopped a few feet from the opening and tossed one of the rocks inside, prepared to run if necessary. No sound emanated from within nor did any animal make it's way out. Joe waited two minutes then tossed another rock. After another minute, one more rock went inside followed by two more in rapid succession. Still, the area remained quiet.  
  
Joe went to the opening and dropped to a crouching position to peer inside. Too dark to actually see anything, he withdrew the penlight from his pocket, grateful the Assassins had been too pre-occupied with leaving when he had been captured to search and take his light and pocketknife. He turned the light on and looked in the entrance.  
  
It was a small cave...not big enough to stand up in...but there was enough room to sit upright and stretch out in a prone position. He shone the light on the floor of the cave. There were no droppings on the floor....at least, none large enough to belong to a mountain lion or other large animal. Joe knew there were wolves in the area but they kept together in packs and this cave was too small.  
  
He would have to make some sort of cover for the entrance. It wouldn't do to have an enemy surprise him while he slept. Tired and sore, he knew he had better get busy. Now that the Assassins knew he was still alive, they would be crawling all over the place.  
  
Wolfe returned to the room which held Frank and Gray with two men to accompany him. Each man held something not entirely visible to the occupants of the room. Wolfe opened the door and saw the two prisoners sitting on the floor. "I see you have realized there is no way out," Wolfe gloated, entering.  
  
When neither said a word, he devoted his attention to Frank. "Are you ready to talk?" he asked.  
  
"I want to see my brother," Frank said, his brown eyes meeting Wolfe's.  
  
"No," Wolfe refused. "You tell me what I want to know, then I will let you see him one last time."  
  
Frank shook his head stubbornly. "I don't believe you have him," Frank stated, standing up. "You probably took his necklace at the festival."  
  
Wolfe laughed. "Well, Mr. Hardy. It seems you have called my bluff," he said as the Gray Man also arose. "You're half right. I don't have your brother. Anymore. But the chain wasn't taken at the festival. You see, unlike yourself and your associate here, Joe wasn't buckled up in the helicopter." Wolfe took delight in the growing horror he saw on Frank's face. "The chain was what I managed to grasp as he fell from the copter."  
  
"No!" rasped Frank, his face ashen. "You're lying!"  
  
"Not this time," Wolfe assured him. "It was a joke really. We knew he didn't like to fly so we were giving him a ride to remember. Unfortunately, our pilot rocked a little too hard and he slid out."  
  
"He's lying," the Gray Man told Frank, putting a hand on his shoulder. "If that were true they would have gone after the body and used his clothes or...or something to convince you they had him."  
  
"Oh, we did go look for his body," Wolfe informed them. "Only, something got to it before we did. There wasn't anything left but blood and bones." He gave this information time to sink in before continuing. "So you see, I couldn't possibly continue my bluff about your brother.  
  
"However, I do need your cooperation. My orders were to capture Joe Hardy but since that is out of the question, I must attempt to appease my superiors with information which at least one, but probably both of you know. I admit, I am desperate."  
  
"You'll get nothing out of us," Gray declared. Frank gave a slight nod, too in shock to say anything.  
  
"Oh, I think you might change your minds," Wolfe said. "Eventually." He held out a hand and motioned for the two men to come forth. They did so, shaking the jars and starting to open them as they neared.  
  
"Tell me, gentlemen, have you been down south lately? They have a common insect whose bite is not only painful but, in quantity, can be fatal." With these words, he backed away as the two men removed the lids and threw the contents of the jars on the two prisoners. In seconds, Frank and the Gray Man were covered with fire ants. 


	9. Chapter 9

Joe stepped back and looked at the cave entrance critically. Not bad, he thought. He checked his bearings then left in search of something to eat. He found some berries but since he couldn't recognize them, he thought it prudent not to tempt fate and bypassed them. Eventually, he settled for some bark. He climbed into the tree and took some bark from well above eye level and put some into his shirt pocket for later.  
While he was in the tree he looked around to see if anyone were looking for him. He frowned when he saw three separate groups of men heading down the mountain from the north. His frown grew deeper as every few hundred feet one of the men would break off. Obviously, there was a full-scale search party after him. Noting how rapidly they were advancing, Joe quickly cut more bark then hurried down the tree. He held the canteen up to his ear and shook it. Almost full. That was good because he didn't have tome to find and purify water before those goons reached him. But maybe...  
  
He emptied out his pockets to see what items he had. Besides what he had taken from the Assassin and his own pocket knife, there was a pack of gum, some coins, a yo-yo, and an empty wrapper from a honey bun he had eaten the day before. There hadn't been a trash can around so he had stuffed the wrapper into his pocket.  
  
Grinning, he carefully unfurled the wrapper then folded it carefully. He put all the items back into his pockets then made his way back to the cave, picking up a few sticks and rocks he spied along the way which might prove useful.  
  
He was glad it was summer because a fire would be out of the question. Tonight, he would eat his bark; work on his trap and try to think of a way to rescue Frank.  
  
He reached the cave and moved the branches. Entering, he rearranged his canopy and sat down. He kept a small branch to sweep away minute debris from an area in the corner, then laid the bark down. Next, he emptied his pockets, laying everything out within easy reach.  
  
He opened the canteen and took a drink. Closing it back up, he pulled his shirt off. Ahh, much better, he thought. He picked up the key to his bicycle lock and a small rock and set to work.  
  
The two men tossed the ants on to Frank and the Gray Man, dropped the jars and ran for the door. Wolfe exited last, shutting the door and locking it.  
  
As the ants landed on Frank, he automatically whipped his shirt over his head, stomping around on the ground. He groaned as he felt the little insects penetrate his flesh. He slapped at them then unzipped his jeans and dropped them; shaking his head as he did so. Stepping out of his pants, he beat at his head, trying to kill the critters which had lodged there.  
  
He glanced up and saw the Gray Man still struggling to get his shirt off as the ants crawled over his hands and along his face. Frank took a step forward and grasped the front of his shirt and pulled. The buttons popped as he continued pulling it open and down. Gray dropped his arms as Frank slid the shirt off of him. As it fell to the floor, Frank began slapping at the insects on Gray's face.  
  
Ten minutes later, they stopped moving. Breathing heavily, Frank fell on to the wooden chair he had been tied to. He watched as the Gray Man sat down, his breath coming in short gasps.  
  
"Are you going to be okay?" Frank asked in concern.  
  
Gray nodded. "I...I need...to lie down," he managed to get out. Frank stood up and helped the Gray Man. Half carrying him, he took him to the corner of the room and helped him to the floor.  
  
"You're hot," Frank said, concerned. The Gray Man closed his eyes. "Hey!" Frank shouted, standing upright and going to the door. He began pounding on it. "Open up!" he screamed, pounding louder. His hands were beginning to hurt but he kept banging until he saw the knob turn. He backed away from the door and waited until the door was open.  
  
"He needs medical attention," Frank told the two men who stood there, their weapons drawn and ready.  
  
"Like that's going to happen," one of the Assassins sneered.  
  
"You won't get anything out of him if he dies," Frank tried to persuade them.  
  
"But we will from you," the Assassin pointed out, grinning.  
  
Frank gritted his teeth in frustration as the two prepared to leave. "Wait! How about some water?" he pleaded.  
  
"And what do we get in return?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Frank asked although he was positive he knew the answer.  
  
"If we give you water, you have to give us information," came the expected response.  
  
"How much water?" Frank asked.  
  
"As much as you need," he was promised. "We'll even throw in some clothes."  
  
"I want the water first," Frank bargained.  
  
"Agreed. Bring him," he was ordered.  
  
Frank pulled the Gray Man up and into a fireman's carry. He followed one of the men out of the room and down a corridor. They made a left turn and went down another corridor, coming to a stop at the next to the last door.  
  
Inside, Frank eased the Gray Man to the floor. "Running water," the Assassin said, turning on the faucet at the sink. "And there," he added, pointing to some clothes which lay folded upon the closed toilet, "are your clothes. Now, it's your turn."  
  
"What do you want to know?" Frank asked, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping it wouldn't be something too damaging or impossible to lie about.  
  
"We'll make it easy on you this time," the Assassin said. "Tell us anything."  
  
Frank swallowed. This certainly wasn't the response he had been expecting. "Spit it out, kid," Frank was ordered.  
  
"Sean Sherman," Frank said, remembering the name he and Joe had invented. Shortly after starting to work for the Network, he and Joe had realized that at some point they might be forced to divulge confidential information. They also knew the information would be checked out so they also "invented" complete histories for their imaginary spies, including cases solved and false information gathered. When the information was checked out, if they had a spy at the Network, the "person" under scrutiny would be labeled as deep undercover.  
  
"Who is Sherman?" the Assassin asked.  
  
"He's one of the Network's men," Frank responded. "He's undercover as an Assassin."  
  
"Indeed? And what name does he go by?"  
  
"I don't know," Frank answered.  
  
"You realize if you're lying, your friend there will pay the price," the Assassin informed him.  
  
"Yeah, I kind of figured," Frank replied.  
  
The two Assassins left the room, locking it behind them. At once, Frank set about getting the Gray Man cooled down.  
  
Joe stopped moving and held his breath. He heard the unmistakable sound of boots striking turf and the rustle of leaves as the enemy approached. Had he done a good enough job hiding the cave's entrance? Was the person outside already aware of it's existence?  
  
He could feel his heart race as the steps grew nearer. The branches at the entrance rustled as the Assassin passed by but the covering held fast. As the footsteps receded, he let out the breath he had been holding, with trembling hands he set down the rock and newly formed hook he had made from his key.  
  
He waited twenty minutes in silence; barely moving. Then, feeling somewhat safe, he moved to the entrance and parted the branches. His heart leapt into his throat and he gasped as his blue eyes met brown ones. 


	10. Chapter 10

Joe closed his eyes and let out a low chuckle as the nosey deer scampered away from the opening. Since the deer had been lurking outside he assumed it was safe to leave his hide-a-way. He slipped outside, stood erect, and stretched, remaining quiet and listening.  
Hearing nothing, he walked a few yards into the woods, selected a tree and climbed up, hiding himself in it's branches. He had left the binoculars in the cave, knowing the sun would reflect on them and give him away. He put a hand over his eyes in a salute and surveyed the area.  
  
He could see more than a few Assassins roaming around; the ones who had separated earlier had started meeting back up with their comrades and they waited to be joined by the others. Soon, he saw most of them head back in the direction they had come from. He guessed roughly a fourth had remained in the forest to try and find him. Not great odds, but better than they had been.  
  
Joe kept watch until he was sure he had spotted all the men nearest him. The closest one was roughly a quarter of a mile away. He couldn't make out what he was doing but it didn't really matter. He figured the men would wait until dark then use night vision goggles. They would be able to see him but he wouldn't be able to see them.  
  
He smiled. If they were going to be up all night, hunting, then they would either have to sleep in the morning or be replaced. But replacements would mean searching the same area twice and that wasn't very efficient. No, he would stay in the cave until morning then set about finding a way to find Frank and the Gray Man.  
  
He descended from his perch and looked around on the forest floor as he walked. Spotting what he needed, he lifted the group of leaves on which it sat and gingerly carried it to the cave's entrance. There, he placed it on the ground near the center. Next, he gathered more branches and leaves and placed them near the entrance, making the arrangement look as natural as possible. Finished, he went back into the cave and pulled the branches up to its entrance. He only hoped the wind didn't shift.  
  
Frank stood at the sink and splashed his face with cold water. It had been a battle, but he had finally managed to get the Gray Man's fever down. He had used the two shirts soaked with water as compresses and now he looked over to where the pants had fallen to t he floor by the toilet.  
  
What kind of place is this? he wondered as he walked over and picked up a pair and put them on. This room, like the other, had only the one way out but it did have a toilet and sink. He would have assumed this to be a former prison...except there were doors instead of iron bars.  
  
Frank looked over at the Gray Man who remained unconscious and wondered if he might have an idea where they were. He had a feeling it was in the middle of nowhere and when they escaped, if they escaped, they needed to know in which direction to head.  
  
The Assassin had said Joe had fallen out of the helicopter, did that mean...JOE! Frank's eyes opened wide and his breathing became erratic. How could he have forgotten? He sank to the floor and hugged his knees, his hands trembling too much to lock.  
  
Sure, he had been lied to about Joe being a prisoner; but there was no reason to lie about his death. Had Joe been alive, the Assassins could have threatened to hurt or kill him if Frank didn't talk. Oh God! Frank cried out silently as tears began to flow unchecked.  
  
Early the next morning Joe awoke as a horrendous screech filled the air. Great! Not only do I have to worry about Assassins but bobcats as well, thought Joe.  
  
He stretched as much as his cramped quarters would allow and listened for man-made sounds. Hearing nothing but the chirping of crickets and the occasional whistle of a bird, he poked his head outside. The ground had been trampled and Joe breathed in sharply, realizing how close he had been to being discovered while he slept. He grabbed the binoculars and stepped outside. Hurrying over to the trees for cover, he didn't take time to enjoy the magnificent sunrise.  
  
He shinned up the tree and put his hand against his forehead in a salute as he surveyed the area before him. Feeling safe for the moment he put the binoculars to his eyes and focused them. He spotted three of the men who were looking for him. Two were sleeping but the third was awake and seemed to be keeping watch.  
  
Joe lowered the binoculars. At least they had gathered together instead of being spread out. This would make his job much easier. First things first, he said to himself, climbing down from the tree. He returned to his cave long enough to leave the binoculars and grab the key which he had worked so hard to fashion into a fishhook. He went down to the lake and, staying as close to the brush and rocks as possible, set about making a fish trap.  
  
He took three small branches and sat down on a rock long enough to take the yo-yo from his pocket and break off the string. Using his pocket knife, he cut enough of the string to tie a little line onto one of the sticks. Next, he cut at two of the branches to make a resting place for the third one. Fastening the improvised fish hook to the string he laid it down and went in search of a worm.  
  
A few minutes later, he attached the worm to the hook and entered the water. He secured two branches into the lake's bed and topped them with the third branch letting the worm wave in the current between the branches. Finished, he returned to dry land. He took careful bearings then disappeared into the forest. It was time for some reconnaissance.  
  
Frank woke with a start. He blinked a few times to try and rid the sleep from his eyes but his vision remained blurry so he used his fingers to wipe it away. It took a minute for him to remember where he was and why.  
  
JOE! his mind screamed in anguish, but he had no tears left. He got to his feet and checked on the Gray man. He was still unconscious but his breathing seemed less labored than before.  
  
Frank wondered what time it was as he began searching the room for listening devices. He found one under the sink and another at the base of the toilet in the back. And a third, and Frank was convinced, final, bug had been attached to the base of the door.  
  
Frank smashed the "bugs" on the floor then went to the sink and turned on the water. He splashed some on his face and then cupped his hands and filled them. He drank from his hands. The water tasted a little rusty but he wasn't about to complain. He drank several handfuls before grabbing one of the tee shirts he had been using to cool Gray down and soaked it once more.  
  
He took the shirt back to him and touched it to Gray's lips, squeezing the shirt gently and letting the water run into his mouth before taking the shirt and swabbing his head. Done, Frank sat down on the floor. Why was he bothering? They were going to be killed anyway. At least if Gray died from the fire ants poison he wouldn't have to endure any tortures the Assassins had planned.  
  
NO! his mind screamed. They had killed Joe. They had to pay for that which meant he had to survive and exact revenge for his brother.  
  
His mind made up, he stood and walked to the door. He knocked loudly but no one came. He screamed but still, no one came. He put his ear to the door and listened. Maybe they were sound proof whish is why the room had been bugged he thought but quickly pushed the idea away. Had the room been soundproof then there would not have been room for the bug beneath the door. No...either no one was in the immediate vicinity of this room or he was being deliberately ignored.  
  
Probably a good thing, thought Frank, returning to Gray's side. He hadn't really thought through what he would have done had the Assassins opened the door. He had let his emotions control him. "Never again," he vowed, his brown eyes hard. If he were going to make them pay for what they had done to Joe, he would have to keep his wits about him and bide his time. "No matter what Baby Brother, they will pay." 


	11. Chapter 11

Joe took off in the direction the men had come from the previous day taking care to tread softly and leave as little evidence as possible he was about.  
It took him most of the morning but he finally located the Assassin's stronghold. It was a flat stone building taking up roughly an acre of space. No windows were visible but Joe could clearly see a multitude of operatives along the perimeter. Joe stayed in the forage, ducking as he saw three of the men lift binoculars to their eyes almost simultaneously and sweep the area. Joe was willing to bet there was another guy on the side of the building he couldn't see doing the same thing.  
  
When they lowered their binoculars, Joe lifted his. He counted a minimum of eighteen Assassins and six all-terrain vehicles. To the right of those were nine trail bikes. Incredible odds but he had no choice. Frank was somewhere in that building and he was going to get him out even if he had to do it alone!  
  
Joe frowned thoughtfully. His first mission was to take out some of the opposition. But how? Oh, he could probably acquire a weapon and kill a few but he had been brought up to believe all life was precious. Hmm...maybe if he just disabled them. A few well-placed traps might injure them to the point they could no longer pose a threat. Or maybe, he could trap one and take him prisoner. Maybe learn something.  
  
Joe thought briefly of the talkie he had taken from the Assassin by the lake but he realized they knew he had it and could feed him false information. Or worse, if he turned it on, there was always the chance it could become a homing device. No, that was useless. For now, anyway.  
  
Joe lowered the binoculars and leaned back against a tree. This was going to be harder than he had thought, not to mention take a long time. He ran a hand through his blond hair, wondering if anyone had missed him yet.  
  
Callie finished her book and laid it down. Glancing at the clock she thought about calling Joe. Frank had been gone for almost eight hours now and she was sure Joe must be bored out of his skull. Unless he was in trouble. But what excuse could she use to call and check up on him?  
  
Trying to think of something, her eyes landed on the sweater Frank had left about two weeks ago when there had been an unseasonable cold spell and he had dropped by for the evening. Okay, so it was a lame excuse and Joe would probably see right through her but Joe was smart enough to know Frank wouldn't have left him alone without asking their friends to check up on him.  
  
Callie picked up the sweater and went downstairs, "I'm going to run Frank's sweater over," she said, holding it up for her parents to see as she went through the living room toward the front door.  
  
"Don't be too late," Mr. Shaw said, not looking up from the paper he was reading.  
  
"I won't," Callie promised, smiling as she realized her parents didn't know of Frank's absence.  
  
It took only fifteen minutes to reach the Hardys'. She saw the van was gone and wondered where Joe could have gone. Oh well, might as well leave the sweater and a note for Joe to call me, she thought.  
  
She took a tablet out of her glove compartment and a pen from the side of the door and jotted a note. She got out of the car, leaving the sweater because she was afraid someone might steal it from the porch and went up to the front door. She was about to push it under the door when she noticed it wasn't all the way shut.  
  
Her Spidey sense tingling, she pulled out her cell phone as she returned to her car and called Biff Hooper, the six foot two, blond and beefy eighteen year old who played football for Bayport High School with Joe. He only lived a couple of blocks away.  
  
Biff answered the phone and was instantly alert as he heard the fear in Callie's voice before she had done more than say hello.  
  
"What's wrong?" Biff demanded.  
  
"I'm at the Hardys'," Callie told him. "I came to check on Joe but when I got here the van was gone."  
  
"He's probably at Mr. Pizza," Biff said soothingly.  
  
"Maybe," she agreed. "But when I started to leave a note for Joe to call me, the door moved. It wasn't locked. It wasn't even closed all the way."  
  
"Where are you?" Biff asked.  
  
"In my car out front," she answered.  
  
"Keep the doors locked," Biff ordered. "I'll be there in a flash."  
  
True to his word, Biff arrived, panting, a few minutes later. It had been quicker to navigate the fences and backyards than pull his van out of the garage and chance hitting a red light and traffic. Biff rapped lightly on Callie's window. "Any movement?" he asked as she rolled it down.  
  
"No," was the reply.  
  
"Stay here while I go in and check it out," Biff told her. "If I'm not back out in five minutes, call the police."  
  
Callie bit her bottom lip and nodded. She would have preferred going in with Biff but she was wise enough to accept the wisdom of his command.  
  
Biff pushed the front door open and waited for a few seconds. He went inside, being very quiet and listening for any sound as he searched the first floor and then the second. Seeing nothing out of place, Biff returned to the porch where Callie joined him.  
  
"The breakfast dishes are in the kitchen sink but everything else, except Joe's room of course, is in order," Biff told her. "Maybe Joe just forgot to lock up when he left."  
  
"That doesn't sound like Joe," Callie said, frowning. "And after what happened this weekend..."  
  
"Tell you what," Biff began. "We'll call around and see if anyone has seen him. I'll even stay here until he gets back."  
  
"And if he doesn't?" she asked, worried.  
  
"If he's not back by nine, and no one has seen him, then we'll call the police," Biff promised.  
  
"Okay," Callie agreed. The two went inside and while Callie called Chet and Phil, Biff put in a call to Mr. Pizza where Tony Prito was working and called a few other friends from school.  
  
When all replies came back negative, Biff was as worried as Callie. "Should we call the hospitals?" Callie asked a bit hesitantly.  
  
Biff thought it over then shook his head. "No, let's give Joe until tonight before we go that route. He may be doing something for Sam Radley," he suggested, naming an associate of Fenton Hardy's whom Frank and Joe did leg work for on occasion.  
  
"Call and see," Callie suggested.  
  
Biff picked up the address book by the phone and looked up the number. Callie punched the number in on her cell phone as Biff read it out. After the third ring, the Radley's answering machine picked up. Callie left a short message saying she was looking for Joe before hanging up.  
  
"If anything has happened to Joe, Frank will kill me," Callie moaned. "I was supposed to keep an eye on him."  
  
"He's not going to kill you," Biff said soothingly. "Frank didn't expect us to keep an eye on Joe twenty four seven. Besides, Joe could be following up a lead to the kidnapping attempt."  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of," Callie confessed.  
  
Callie left shortly after that and Biff called home to let his parent's know he would be spending the night with Joe. When nine o'clock rolled around and Joe hadn't returned, Biff called Callie and asked her to meet him at the police station.  
  
They arrived at the station around nine thirty and spoke to the sergeant at the desk. "Sergeant Riley," Callie greeted him, relived to find that the man doing time at the front desk was a close friend of the Hardys. "Joe's missing," she said without preamble.  
  
"I know," responded Con Riley, his brown eyes serious.  
  
"How do you know?" demanded Biff.  
  
"Because his van was found abandoned on Scarsdale Road about two hours ago," Con informed the two. 


	12. Chapter 12

"Scarsdale Road?" Callie asked, wrinkling her forehead in thought. "But isn't Conover in the opposite direction?"  
"Conover?" Riley demanded, his brown eyes intense as he stared into hers. "What does Conover have to do with anything?"  
  
Callie told him about the attempted kidnapping in Conover then Biff informed him about finding the Hardy home open.  
  
"Hmm," Con said thoughtfully stroking his bare chin. "Joe could have been kidnapped and the van moved from where he had left it. Was the attempted kidnapping reported to the Conover police?" Callie nodded. "Do you know what the guy looked like?"  
  
Callie shook her head. "I didn't see him."  
  
"I'll call Conover and we'll compare notes and get started on the investigation. Thanks," he added, reaching for the phone but looking at the two teens. "At least now we have a place to start." He shook his head. "Frank's going to kill me if we don't get Joe back before he returns. He asked me to keep an eye on him," he ended.  
  
"Now what?" asked Callie once she and Biff were outside the station. "We can't just sit back and do nothing."  
  
"We aren't going to," Biff said. "We're going to call the gang together for a meeting at the Hardys and then we'll come up with something."  
  
"Hey, where's Joe?" asked blond, chubby Chet Morton as Biff opened the front door and ushered him into the Hardy living room. Like the others who had already arrived, he hadn't been informed of the purpose of the meeting.  
  
"Yeah," Tony said, his dark eyes looking at Biff questioningly. "Is he following a lead?"  
  
Callie shook her head at the olive-skinned youth whose thick black hair was in an unruly mess. When Biff called, Tony had already been in bed but had quickly dressed and hurried over.  
  
Phil Cohen, a quiet boy with sandy brown hair and icy blue eyes that were hidden beneath a pair of glasses looked at Callie expectantly. When she had called him earlier to request his presence, he had known something was wrong but had refrained from asking, knowing he would find out at the meeting.  
  
"Joe's missing," Callie informed the boys. "When I came by earlier, the front door was open and when Biff and I reported it to the police they told us their van had been found abandoned."  
  
"We need to know what Joe was working on," Phil said.  
  
"Duh!" Chet interjected. "He was almost kidnapped in Conover over the weekend," he reminded Phil.  
  
"I know that," Phil said, only the glare in his eyes reflecting his annoyance. "But he had to have a reason to of left home without telling anyone."  
  
"And he had to of been in a big hurry to have forgotten to lock the door," Tony added. "But where do we start?"  
  
"Mr. Hardy's computer," was Phil's reply. "Maybe Joe found something online about the guy who tried to nab him."  
  
"Can you check Mr. Hardy's computer and find out?" asked Biff. "If Joe was on it instead of Frank's then he was probably visiting some restricted sites."  
  
"Frank and Joe had me backpedal last Wednesday when their dad was missing. I remember all the passwords they gave me," Phil told him.  
  
"Go to it," Callie urged.  
  
"Cal!" Phil shouted down the stairs a little later.  
  
Callie appeared at the bottom of the steps a few seconds later with Tony, Chet and Biff behind her. "Did you find something?" she asked, leading the way up the stairs.  
  
"Definitely!" Phil said. "But I can't believe Joe would follow up on his own," he ended, going back into Mr. Hardy's office followed by the others.  
  
Phil had a picture of Anthony Wolfe on the monitor. "This is a known Assassin," he informed the group. "And so is this," he added, pulling up a picture of Nicolas Ward.  
  
Callie's face paled. "Frank's leaving had something to do with the Assassins," she said in a hoarse whisper. "You don't think it was a ruse just to get Joe alone, do you?"  
  
"Why would they just be after Joe and not Frank?" Tony asked. "It doesn't make any sense."  
  
"Actually, it does," Phil said. "If Frank is doing something that concerns the Assassins then kidnapping Joe would be the only way to get Frank to cooperate with them. Maybe the Assassins are going to try and get Frank to spy for them."  
  
"Great," Biff groaned. "First Frank's going to kill us for letting Joe get kidnapped and then Joe's going to kill Frank for not being straight with him."  
  
"No," Chet disagreed, his face serious and his brown eyes hard. "If we don't find Joe soon, the Assassins will kill him. You know they'll never let him go whether or not Frank does what they want him to do."  
  
"Then we have to go to Conover," Callie asserted. "That's where they were first seen so they may still be in the area."  
  
"You know, there's a lot of wild area out there," Phil put in thoughtfully. "Is it possible that's where the camp Frank was supposed to of gone to is located? If the Assassins knew about the camp and from what Frank told me, they must have, then maybe they were in Conover looking over the place."  
  
"But Frank wouldn't have left Joe here alone if he knew terrorists were after Joe," Tony argued.  
  
"He didn't know," Callie said. "Frank told Joe to leave it to the police in Conover. Frank never even checked the guy out who went after Joe."  
  
"He never?" Phil asked, surprised. That didn't sound like Frank. He was usually pretty thorough. Obviously, something more was going on than they knew. "I think I'll check Frank's computer," Phil said, logging off of Mr. Hardy's.  
  
The teens made their way down the hall and into Frank's bedroom. Phil started checking out Frank's computer while Callie took a seat on the edge of the bed. Chet went to the bathroom and Biff and Tony kept watch over Phil's shoulders.  
  
"Doesn't look like he's done more than check his e-mail for the past couple of days," Phil commented, glancing over at Callie who had spotted a large manila envelope tucked under the corner of Frank's pillow sham and was pulling it out.  
  
Callie read the front and gasped. "What is it?" Chet asked, coming out of the bathroom.  
  
Unable to speak, she held the envelope up with trembling hands. On it were the words: The Last Will and Testament of Frank Hardy. 


	13. Chapter 13

"Should....should we read it?" Biff asked nervously.  
"No," Phil answered. "Frank wouldn't have told Joe about it. And if Joe had found it, it would have been opened."  
  
Callie's eyes were bright as she looked into Phil's. "Frank wasn't expecting to come back," she said. "He's gone on dangerous missions before but he's never..."  
  
"That we know of," Chet interrupted her forcibly. "Frank's always thinking ahead. Maybe he made that a long time ago."  
  
"Possible," Phil admitted, but it was obvious he did not agree. "But for him to leave it under his pillow means Callie was right. He wasn't expecting to make it back alive."  
  
"So Frank's probably going to die and Joe may be dead already," Chet stated. "This can't be happening."  
  
"It's not," Biff spoke up. "We're going to find Joe and if we're lucky, Frank too."  
  
"Right," agreed Tony. "We know this fiasco started in Conover so that's where we start looking."  
  
"First thing in the morning," Phil seconded the idea. "It's too late to start tonight."  
  
"We'll take my van," volunteered Biff. "So be at my place at six sharp."  
  
"Callie, maybe you should wait at home," suggested Phil, attempting to protect her. "If Frank gets a chance or Joe escapes, they will probably call you."  
  
"Yeah, right," Callie agreed sarcastically. "I'm taking my cell phone. If either of them call, they'll use that number."  
  
The next morning, Biff pulled into the parking lot of a little cafe advertising an all you can eat breakfast bar. Before getting out, Phil handed each of the teens the pictures of Wolfe and Ward that he had downloaded and printed before leaving the Hardys the previous evening.  
  
"We can start asking around in here," Phil said. "But try to keep a low profile. If they think we're getting to close..."  
  
"They'll kill Joe," Callie finished for him.  
  
"Or us," added Tony.  
  
Having no luck over breakfast, the teens left the van parked at the edge of the lot and set out on foot after agreeing to meet back at the van at noon.  
  
Chet, having asked almost everyone he had seen about the two men, was on his way back to the van when two men, one tall and muscular and the other a bit shorter than Chet's own five eleven frame, stepped in front of him, blocking his path.  
  
"We hear you're looking for a couple of guys," said the tall one, his blue eyes intense as they bored into Chet.  
  
"Why are you looking for them?" the other guy asked a suddenly paralyzed Chet. "Are they friends of yours?"  
  
The door opened and Frank saw the strongman from before and a new guy. Neither of them spoke but walked over to where Frank sat near Gray and pulled him to his feet.  
  
"What do you want?" Frank demanded as he was hauled out the door, but no answer came. One man relocked the door behind them then they hustled Frank down the corridor to where a third man stood. Frank was taken inside and forced to sit on a heavy wooden chair which had been secured to the far wall. His ankles were secured to the bottom of the chair with leg irons and then he was left alone.  
  
It had taken most of the morning, but Joe had finally found a water supply. He had been looking for a viable source for almost an hour when he became aware of an aroma uncommon in the woods: cigarette smoke.  
  
Joe stopped moving and listened. Soon, he could hear approaching footsteps. As quietly as possible, Joe headed in the opposite direction. About a mile later, Joe sank to his knees in the weeds by a group of trees. He noticed the ground around him was damp. After listening to make sure there wasn't anyone in the immediate vicinity, Joe followed the damp ground as it became muddier to where water was seeping through some rocks.  
  
Joe drank deeply then poured the stale water from his canteen and refilled it with fresh. He grinned because now he wouldn't have to use the honey bun wrapper to gather moisture by building a still. The more he had searched, the surer he had become one would have been necessary, but thanks to having to alter his course, it no longer was. Of course, if the terrorist stumbled across the area then he might yet have to resort to one.  
  
Joe looked back the way he had come. He had left tracks on the soft ground. How was he going to cover those up? He looked around for something, hoping to get an idea. He grabbed a fallen branch and tried smoothing his tracks away but it only made it more obvious someone had been there. Joe groaned. A great source of water and he would be taking a chance every time he returned.  
  
Sighing, he drank his fill from the canteen then refilled it once more before leaving the area back the way he had come. If the enemy did set up a future ambush they might only arrange it in one direction. Okay, so it was wishful thinking, but he might get lucky.  
  
No time to think about that. Joe shook his head. Enough worrying about his own survival, now it was time to think about saving Frank. He had to get busy. First, he needed some rope. He knew he could make some from organic materials in the woods but since the enemy already knew he was around, and it was quicker, he would just have to steal what he needed from them.  
  
First things first. He had to take care of the men searching for him. Tonight, while they were 'hunting' him, he would infiltrate their camp, take what he needed and set traps. Once they were out of the way one of two things would happen and as far as he was concerned, both were positive. They would send in reinforcements, which he would also trap and thus reduce the number of Assassins at the fortress or they would cut their losses and leave him alone thus allowing him the run of the forest to arrange his assault on the encampment which held his brother.  
  
Joe's stomach growled. Can't do anything on an empty stomach. It was time to check his fish trap and then, if he were lucky, build a small fire under the outcropping of rocks by the lake where there would be less chance of the smoke being seen. Joe grinned in anticipation. If the circumstances had been different, he could really be enjoying himself.  
  
"I...uh..." Chet stuttered, unsure how to respond. Swallowing, he took first one step back, turning his hands into fists, then brought his foot forward again and let his right fist connect with the jaw of the man taller than himself.  
  
Chet prepared to run as the man fell but an ominous click held him in place. He looked at the weapon in the hand of the other man. It was aimed at Chet's heart. 


	14. Chapter 14

Chet slowly raised his hands. "Now, you will answer our questions," Shorty ordered Chet, his brown eyes hard as steel as his pal regained his composure and stood rubbing his jaw and glaring.  
Chet remained silent, watching as Biff, who had been on his way back to the van and had seen the two men approach Chet, come up behind Shorty and his pal. Just as Biff reached them, the tall man spun around, whipping out his own handgun and trained it on Biff. "So you want to talk too?" he snarled, reaching out and snagging Biff's arm.  
  
"I think it's time we went somewhere private," Shorty said, taking Chet's arm.  
  
Frank stretched his arms and leaned first to his left and then to his right side. He had been sitting on the hard chair for hours, unable to get up because the leg irons were attached directly to the chair with no chain in between. His ankles were sore from having them rub against the metal every time he tried to move but that was nothing compared to the way his backside felt.  
  
He remembered countless times he had sat in the padded courtroom chairs with only short breaks for lunch and a restroom break. On those long days he had been stiff and sore but that soreness had quickly faded once he had gotten to move around. This hard chair had caused the soreness to progress to a dull ache. Frank wondered if one could get hemorrhoids from sitting in a hard chair all day.  
  
He sat up straighter and arched his back, clasping his hands together in a backward movement and thrusting his arms forward. If he kept stretching the parts of him that could move perhaps he wouldn't be too sore to escape if the chance arose.  
  
He was just starting to bend forward again when the door opened and one of his captors walked in carrying a bowl. Frank could smell the aroma of the chicken soup and his stomach growled.  
  
"Hello, Frank," Wolfe greeted him, smiling. "I thought you might be a little hungry by now so I brought you some soup." He came closer to Frank and held the bowl out to him.  
  
Frank reached for it but Wolfe pulled it away. "Not until you answer a question."  
  
"I'm not telling you anything," Frank asserted, his expression stony.  
  
"Oh, come," Wolfe begged playfully. "Just tell me where Network headquarters is located and you can have the soup."  
  
Frank's expression never changed, nor did he speak. "I told you, I'm a desperate man," Wolfe continued. He upturned the bowl of soup on Frank's head. "Perhaps you'll be ready to talk later. Who knows? It might be hot next time."  
  
Wolfe went to the door and opened it. In walked the muscleman carrying a bucket of water. He poured it over Frank then left the room. Wolfe followed him out not even turning to look Frank again. Outside, Wolfe relocked the door then turned the thermostat on the temperature regulated room up to one hundred and four degrees.  
  
"We'll give him an hour," Wolfe said. "Then we'll give him another chance to talk."  
  
"Any news on Joe Hardy?" Afton asked.  
  
"No," Wolfe replied with a scowl. "If he isn't found tonight, I'm doubling the search party."  
  
Chet and Biff were led down the street and forced into the backseat of a navy Lexus. Shorty kept the handgun trained on the two boys as the other guy climbed behind the wheel and drove them to a motel on the outskirts of town. Once there, the two boys were ushered into a room where three other men were waiting. "They're kids," declared one of the men in surprise.  
  
"I don't think there's an age limit for being a killer," one of the other men spit out.  
  
"Open your mouths," Shorty ordered Biff and Chet.  
  
"We're not telling you anything," Biff declared bravely although his knees were ready to buckle. Chet, however, never spoke. He was looking at the second man who had spoken with a curious expression.  
  
"Open your mouths," Shorty ordered again, more gruffly. Chet opened his mouth and let one of the men prod his teeth. "Your turn," Shorty told Biff.  
  
"It's okay," Chet said, glancing at his pal. "I think these guys are on our side."  
  
Shorty's gaze narrowed on Chet as Biff opened his mouth and allowed his teeth to be poked. "No false ones," declared the man, stepping back.  
  
"Wait a minute! You think we're Assassins!" Biff demanded in shocked surprise.  
  
"Stupid ones at that," said the one man who hadn't spoken until now. He came to stand in front of the two boys as the others backed up a bit. "Why would you advertise you're looking for Wolfe and Ward?"  
  
"Who are you?" Chet asked. "I mean, do you have any way of proving who you work for?"  
  
The man stared into Chet's brown eyes for a moment then opened his own mouth wide. Chet stepped forward and checked his teeth. "You are one of the good guys," Chet said, smiling as he stepped back. He looked at Biff. "All the Assassins have a fake tooth holding a cyanide capsule."  
  
"Now, would you care to tell me why two teenage boys are looking for two of the most notorious killers in the world?" the man asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"They kidnapped our friend," Biff informed them.  
  
"Another teenager?" the man demanded in disbelief. Biff nodded. "Why would they be interested in a boy?"  
  
"His name is Joe Hardy," Chet said. "His brother is..."  
  
"Frank," the man said. "You're friends of Frank and Joe Hardy?" Both boys nodded.  
  
"Why did you come here to look for these men? And why are you so sure they are the ones who kidnapped Joe?"  
  
Chet informed the men about the attempted abduction over the weekend in Conover at the festival and about finding Ward's and Wolfe's pictures. He ended with the van being found abandoned.  
  
"You two need to return to Bayport," they were ordered.  
  
"Not without Joe," Biff insisted stubbornly.  
  
Shorty frowned at him. "Do you know where Frank went?" he asked.  
  
"Some survival camp sponsored by your operation," Chet answered.  
  
"Not just any survival camp. This one was designed to lure and capture the leader of the Assassins," one of the men put in.  
  
"No wonder Frank didn't want Joe going," Biff commented.  
  
"The problem is, the Assassins found out about the camp before we leaked out the information," Shorty explained the situation to the two youths. "So when our men showed up to set up camp, they were ambushed. The Assassins now have control of the camp, which is a stone fortress set up to house a multitude of rooms for the purpose of preparing our agents for possible tortures they could encounter."  
  
"You set up a building to torture your own men?" Biff demanded, his face whitening with shock.  
  
The agent shrugged. "Preparation for this type of thing is more than fifty percent of our survival."  
  
"But the Assassins have it now. And your agents to use it on," Biff said, still amazed at the stupidity of the Network.  
  
"And Frank," Chet added in a strangled whisper. 


	15. Chapter 15

Wolfe opened the door and paused as the hot, stale air hit him in the face. It had been almost four hours since Frank had been left alone in the increasingly hot room and his throat was now parched to the point he couldn't speak even if he had wanted too. His hair which had quickly dried after being drenched was now dripping with sweat.  
Frank's head was lolling back as Wolfe entered holding an empty glass and a pitcher of rapidly melting ice water. "Hello, again," Wolfe said, going to stand in front of Frank.  
  
Frank wearily lifted his head and saw the pitcher of water. His glazed eyes focused briefly then he closed them and let his head fall back. He would not give away any secrets no matter how desperately he yearned for a drink. "Have you decided to tell me what I wish to know?" Wolfe inquired, his tone one a parent would use to explain something to a four year old.  
  
Unable to speak, Frank shook his head. "Ah, well. I hadn't really expected for you to break quite so soon," Wolfe said, filling the glass with water. He held it to Frank's lips. "Drink," he ordered, tipping the glass so the liquid would could flow down Frank's throat.  
  
Frank drank thirstily until the glass was empty and Wolfe refilled it. Again, Frank drank. "Why?" whispered Frank.  
  
"Can't having you dying of dehydration, now, can we?" Wolfe asked, smiling thinly at him. "You would be of no use to us dead." With these words, Wolfe left Frank alone. He locked Frank inside and turned the temperature down to twenty two degrees Fahrenheit. "Perhaps you will change your mind when you get cold enough," he muttered.  
  
Joe had spent the rest of his day checking his trap; digging the fire pit and locating a spot where he could observe the enemy without being seen. A little before sundown, he made his way to the tree he had chosen as his observation tower. He could tell the enemy had been awake for some time for the aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the trees as the men prepared for the night's hunt.  
  
Using his binoculars, Joe watched as one of the men pulled out a map and they gathered around it. He couldn't see well enough to see what they were pointing at nor was he close enough to hear what was being said, but he didn't like the way one of the men kept making a circle on the map.  
  
Eventually, the men put the map up; put on their night vision goggles and left camp, each headed in a different direction. Joe held his breath and remained still as one of the men passed beneath him. When the man looked up, Joe was grateful he had taken the time to camouflage himself.  
  
With mud covering his hair, face, hands and sneakers and mud and leaves stuck to his shirt and pants, it was almost impossible for him to be seen in the dark but with the enemy's goggles the chances were greater and he knew he still must do his utmost to remain unseen.  
  
He waited several minutes, watching the men disappear into the distance, before climbing down. He made his way into the men's camp and began taking what he needed. He had almost finished when a light flared on and he heard the ominous click of a firearm.  
  
"I figured a city boy like you would need to raid our camp for food," the Assassin said, then took a closer look. "Well now, I must say, you surprised me. You have the rope and first aid kit but you haven't even gone near our rations." He gave a short laugh. "I guess you're smarter than I thought but you still aren't as bright as the boss gave you credit for. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been right to circle the camp and come back."  
  
Joe never said a word. He just glared at the man. "You don't look like you need that first aid kit but maybe before I turn you over, we can fix that," the Assassin ended with a deviant grin.  
  
Wolfe entered the room where Frank was being held dressed in jeans and a fur-lined coat. He walked up to Frank just as Frank let loose with a loud sneeze. Wolfe looked down at his coat where the fruit of Frank's sneeze had landed, then back to Frank who, in spite of his dire predicament, couldn't help but smirk.  
  
"Where is Network headquarters located?" Wolfe demanded once more.  
  
"I..I'll ne..nev..ver t..tell," Frank responded between shattering teeth.  
  
"I think you will," Wolfe replied, turning on his heel and leaving. He closed the door and looked at Afton who had remained outside. "Take him to room 14."  
  
"Caulfield is in there," Afton informed Wolfe.  
  
"Move him in with Gray," Wolfe instructed.  
  
"But Caulfield is close to breaking," Afton argued. "Shouldn't we keep him in isolation a little longer?'  
  
Wolfe thought it over. "No. Only the Hardy kid doesn't know we have the other agents prisoner. It won't matter if Caulfield is in with Gray. Gray still hasn't regained consciousness so he can't do anything to him to keep him silent."  
  
"Who do you want brought into this room?" Afton inquired.  
  
"I believe Sorenson has a subject ready," Wolfe said. "Just move Caulfield and take care of Hardy."  
  
Less than twenty minutes later, Afton released the leg shackles from Frank's ankles and hauled him to his feet. Frank tried to free himself from Afton's grip as he was hauled to his feet and led into the hall and to another room but Afton was too strong and Frank had grown too weak.  
  
Afton opened a door and shoved Frank inside, closing the door quickly. Frank's legs sagged and he felt like falling down but there was a stone wall directly behind him.  
  
Afton hadn't turned on a light so Frank tried to lift his arm to reach for a switch but he couldn't because the door prevented him from raising it. With growing fear, Frank tried to move any way he could but he was blocked at all turns. He was locked in a room less than an inch wider than he was! 


	16. Chapter 16

Biff and Chet returned to the van later that afternoon escorted by two of the Network agents. Callie, Tony and Phil were elated to see their friends. They had been worried when neither boy had shown up at the van at the allotted time and had gone to look for them after an hour. They had just returned and were preparing to go visit the sheriff when the two put in an appearance.  
"Where have you been?" Tony asked as they neared.  
  
Biff shook his head. "We have to leave town," he said, opening the driver's door.  
  
"Why? What happened?" Callie demanded in alarm.  
  
"After we leave," Chet promised quietly, ushering the other teens into the van.  
  
Acknowledging their friend's strange behavior as urgent, Phil, Tony and Callie ceased asking questions and got into the van.  
  
"They are still following us," Chet commented from the passenger seat fifteen minutes later as he observed them in his side mirror.  
  
"They'll probably follow us all the way back to Bayport," Biff stated.  
  
"What happened?" Callie demanded, her curiosity at the breaking point. "Who is following us and why did we have to leave Conover so fast? And what kept you two so long?"  
  
Chet told them about his and Biff's "meeting" with the Network agents. "So the Assassins do have Frank and Joe," Phil said, frowning. "The Network still believes they are alive?"  
  
"It certainly seemed so," Biff affirmed.  
  
"Then we have to get them out," Callie asserted.  
  
"How?" Tony wanted to know. "If the Network can't even get their own men out then how are we supposed to break into a fortress and rescue Frank and Joe?"  
  
"That's just it," Biff said. "They aren't trying to rescue them. They sent their men to their deaths to lure out the leader of the Assassins."  
  
"And since the Network are still in Conover, the leader hasn't shown up and odds are Frank and Joe are still alive," Phil finished for him.  
  
"But the dilemma remains," Tony pointed out. "How are we going to get them out without being stopped by the Network and without getting captured or killed?"  
  
They finished the drive to Bayport in silence, each trying to think of a way to help their chums.  
  
"I have an idea," Phil said as Biff turned onto Neutron Street. "Everyone meet at my place at nine tonight. That should give me enough time to find what we'll need."  
  
Everyone agreed as Biff pulled the van into his crowded driveway. "Callie, I'll pick you up at eight forty-five," Chet offered. "Phil's doesn't have as much parking space as Biff's drive does."  
  
"Pick me up too," Biff told Chet. He looked over at Tony. "Do you have to work at Mr. Pizza tonight?"  
  
Tony shook his head. "I told Dad about Joe," he said. "Dad's going to let me have some time off until we find him."  
  
At nine o'clock that night, Tony pulled his jeep to a stop in front of Phil's house. Chet pulled to a stop behind him as Tony climbed out and all four teens headed to the back of the house where there was a private entrance to the basement where Phil was usually to be found. Tonight was no exception.  
  
They found Phil looking at a topographical map which he had spread out on the floor. He was lying down on his stomach, thoughtfully staring at one section. "Ready to let us in on your plan?" Biff asked, startling Phil.  
  
"Yes," Phil answered, sitting up and straightening his glasses. "This is a topographical map of the area near Conover," he began. "The fortress couldn't be within the city limits because there would be no privacy. I doubt we could do a fly-over without being shot at by the Assassins or, upon landing, arrested for interfering by the Network. But I have narrowed the possibilities down. This area, right here," he pointed to a spot on the map roughly three miles from a lake, "is the most logical place to set up the type of fortress you said the Network guys mentioned.  
  
"It can't be approached by air without being seen nor can it be approached on land. The forest comes close to the area but then there's a rocky incline followed by almost five hundred feet of open space before the hill is reached. Anyone trying to approach would be seen," Phil ended.  
  
"So, how do we infiltrate the area?" Chet asked.  
  
"There's a campground here," Phil said, pointing to an area roughly five miles from the designated site. "We can set up a camp there and hike over. Using binoculars, we can probably locate the weakest point."  
  
"That's not much of a plan," Chet said, frowning.  
  
"But it's a good start," Biff said. "I say, let's do it."  
  
"Agreed," Callie concurred.  
  
"No," Phil told her. "I don't think you should..."  
  
"Stop right there," Callie ordered him, her brown eyes strikingly dark as she glared at him. "You're starting to sound like Frank. I didn't let him get away with it and I am not going to let you get away with it either. I am going on this mission with you and that's final." Her voice softened as she continued. "Besides, you'll need someone to remain at the camp to keep it legit in case anyone gets suspicious. I can always say you went for a hike if anyone comes snooping around and if you have to stay overnight to watch the camp, I can say you must have gotten lost."  
  
"I really wish..." Phil felt obligated to try again.  
  
"I'm going," Callie declared, cutting him off. Phil shrugged and gave her a wan smile. Frank wasn't going to like this.  
  
"Daybreak?" Tony asked. Phil nodded.  
  
"The Network will be keeping an eye out for my van," Biff said.  
  
"No problem," Chet said. "Dad bought a used camper a few weeks ago. He thought it would be cheaper than renting a cabin every time he wanted to take a weekend off. I can get him to let us use it."  
  
"I don't know," Biff said, shaking his head. "When you tell your dad why you need it, he'll forbid you to even go. After Iola..."  
  
"I won't tell him about the Assassins," Chet said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll just tell him Joe's been kidnapped and we're helping Frank rescue him."  
  
"What if he wants to talk to Frank?" Biff inquired.  
  
"He won't," Chet assured him. "Dad knows Frank and Joe. Shoot, when Iola died, Dad was hurt twice as bad. He had already gotten used to the idea of having Joe for a son-in-law."  
  
"You're kidding, right?" Callie asked, a bit amused. "Iola was only sixteen and Joe had just turned seventeen."  
  
"Yeah, but Iola had a crush on Joe since the fourth grade and she never did outgrow it. And Joe, well... we all know he liked to flirt, but with Iola he was serious," Chet ended, his eyes sad when he remembered how Iola's death had affected Joe. Had it not been for Iola dying, Frank and Joe wouldn't be in trouble now. Even after almost a year, Joe would still do anything for Iola.  
  
"So," Biff said, clearing his throat which had somehow gotten a lump in it. "We meet at Chet's at dawn?"  
  
"Not a good idea," Chet disagreed. "I'll pick everyone up at Biff's at dawn instead."  
  
"Make it four," Callie suggested. "We need to get an early start." 


	17. Chapter 17

"Put the rope and kit down, nice and slow," Joe was ordered.  
  
Joe leaned to his right and eased the first aid kit to the ground. Then he lifted his right hand up to his left shoulder and brought the rope down slowly until it reached his left wrist. At that point, Joe went into high gear and threw the rope at the Assassin. Caught by surprise, the heavy rope struck the man in the neck, knocking him off balance. Joe rushed at him and let fly with a right hook before the man had a chance to stand upright. The false tooth flew from his mouth as his head connected with a tree. He crumpled to the ground unconscious.  
  
"One down, two plus to go," Joe murmured. Now, what was he going to do with him? Joe pulled the man's belt off and used it to tie his hands behind his back. He stood, picked up the rope and looked about, his gaze settling on a sturdy tree branch above him. He tossed the end of the rope up, trying to get it over the branch. His first two attempts failed but on the third try, the rope sailed over a thick branch and down the other side. Joe opened the first aid kit and pulled out the gauze and tape. He opened his prisoner's mouth and stuffed the gauze inside then taped his mouth shut.  
  
Next, Joe put one end of the rope around the Assassin, weaving it through his arms. He took the other end of the rope and pulled, hoisting the Assassin into the tree, then tied the rope to the base of the tree after wrapping it twice.  
  
There were only two more out here tonight, he knew. Maybe staying close to their camp would allow him the opportunity to capture them. If he could just get one in a snare trap, then he could take the other one out. No, that wouldn't do, Joe realized. If he did manage to capture one with that kind of trap, who's to say the Assassin wouldn't get off a few rounds with his gun? No. He would have to capture the others some other way.  
  
Joe looked at the tent and grinned. Okay, so it wasn't the greatest idea in the world, but it just might work. He checked the tent one last time for anything he might be able to use then rigged it to cave in on anyone who went inside. Taking his loot, he moved into the cover of the forest; with his newly acquired night vision goggles in place he climbed the tree which held his captive. He checked to make sure the now conscious man was completely incapacitated and then waited silently for his prey.  
  
Joe slipped a pack of beef jerky he had taken on his second foray into the tent and began munching as he waited for another Assassin to put in an appearance. After three hours, he stretched, cautious to make as little noise as possible. He had heard rustling among the foliage below on several occasions but it had always turned out to be a deer or some other woodland creature so when another rustle occurred seconds after he had moved into a more comfortable position, he glanced down more from habit than anticipation.  
  
He did a second take as the enemy made his way to the camp. Good. One at a time I can handle, Joe thought as he eagerly waited for the man to draw closer. Without a sound, Joe leapt out of the tree, feet first, knocking the Assassin to the hard ground face first. Joe somersaulted to an upright position and rolled the Assassin over, delivering a blow that rendered him unconscious. Using the same technique as before, Joe hoisted his captive into the tree next to his first prisoner.  
  
Don't get cocky, Joe berated himself when he caught himself grinning at his success. There's one more. He contemplated getting back in the tree and doing a repeat of his last capture but decided on a more subtle approach.  
  
The third guy would probably be expecting someone to be at camp so he really shouldn't disappoint him. Joe started the fire that was ready to go and filled the metal coffee pot with water and set it on the grill above the fire. Next, he carefully opened the tent flap and put one of the sleeping bags in one of the others. The glow from the fire illuminated the tent in such a way that anyone looking would assume someone was asleep in the tent.  
  
Joe then took the remaining sleeping bag and lay down beneath it near the fire. He made sure his feet nor his head were showing. Now, he had only to wait.  
  
"Ready to talk?" a voice came from above Frank's head. Frank tilted his head back as far as the cramped space would allow. He couldn't see anything so he assumed an intercom system was in use since no light seeped into his prison.  
  
"Go to..." Frank said, breaking off and biting his bottom lip. No. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of hearing him lose his temper. He took a deep breath. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic. He wondered how long he would be kept here before being transferred to another room.  
  
He frowned, thinking about the various rooms he had been in since his capture. Wherever he was, it was definitely not a place which had been chosen on the spur of the moment. His abduction, and the Gray Man's, had obviously been well thought out. They had been going to a survival camp. Frank had assumed that had meant surviving in a wilderness area, but it made much more sense for them to learn to survive against the enemy. Could his captors be Network agents? Were they supposed to discover how much an agent could take before he broke? If that were the case, then Joe was still alive! But, he had Joe's necklace, Frank remembered. No. These men weren't network agents. They had tried to kidnap Joe at the festival. But perhaps they had taken over the camp which meant there were other prisoners here as well.  
  
Frank gave a slow smile. Other prisoners meant he wouldn't be alone in trying to escape. The odds wouldn't be as incredible as he had first assumed.  
  
Joe heard the last man arrive in camp. The Assassin looked in the tent and grunted before making his way to the fire. Stooping, he picked up a cup and reached for the coffee pot. Deciding this was his best chance, Joe threw the sleeping bag at the enemy and pounced. Within thirty minutes, the man had joined his comrades in the tree top.  
  
Joe gave a deep sigh as he looked around the camp. Unless he wanted his prisoners found, he was going to have to erase all sign of their camp. He knew it would only be a matter of time before reinforcements were sent in.  
  
Joe worked diligently in taking the camp apart. He buried the tent and most of the items he found, leaving out only what could prove useful that he could carry. Lastly, Joe covered the smoldering fire with fresh dirt, topping it with loose leaves. He stepped back to survey his handiwork and froze as a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. 


	18. Chapter 18

Chet, Biff, Tony, Phil and Callie arrived at the campground a little before six a.m. "Let's not waste any time," Phil suggested once Chet had parked the camper on their allotted spot. He gave everyone a walkie talkie he had "borrowed" from his father's security company. "These have a two mile range," he said. "They are set on a specific frequency so I doubt anyone will be able to tune in but just in case, be on your guard and don't be too specific in your locations," he warned.  
Next, Phil opened up a map of the area. "Chet, you and Tony take this section. Keep a north east bearing. Biff and I will head this way. What we're looking for should be here," his finger stopped on a spot on the map where the two paths would intersect.  
  
"Be careful," Callie said, worried. Were they doing the right thing, she wondered. Frank and Joe were experienced at this and they were in serious trouble. What would happen if one of them got caught? Callie gave a slight shudder as she watched the boys leave, praying this wouldn't be the last time she saw them.  
  
Being careful not to let their presence be known, Biff and Phil spoke only when absolutely necessary. They watched their footing, avoiding old branches and twigs and still kept a sharp look out for any sign of human entity.  
  
They had been gone from the camper for almost an hour and a half when Biff spotted a wisp of smoke coming from straight ahead. He grabbed Phil's arm and pointed. Phil nodded and put his finger to his lips. Stealthily, they continued their trek until they were about two hundred feet from where the smoke had come from. Biff climbed a tree and sought out the place with his binoculars. Smiling, he hurried back down.  
  
Biff told Phil what he had seen and the two picked up their pace. Just as they reached the spot, the lone figure stood up and took a step back. Biff put his hand on Joe's shoulder ready to go greet him but after the initial contact, Joe went into defensive mode. He grabbed the wrist and arm belonging to the hand of his shoulder and pulled, shifting his weight and inserting a foot behind one of the culprit's As the familiar figure went flying, Joe gasped in surprise.  
  
"Biff! Oh no. Are you okay?" Joe asked, reaching Biff as he landed on his back, the air knocked out of him.  
  
"Guess...you didn't need rescuing after all," Biff grunted with a scowl when he could breathe again, but the scowl quickly turned into a joyous grin. "Boy, am I glad to see you."  
  
"Ditto," seconded Phil, coming out of the trees to join them.  
  
"How did you get here?" demanded Joe, staring at his two friends in disbelief. "And where is here?" he added, realizing he still had no idea where he was.  
  
"First, tell us how you got here," Phil instructed.  
  
Joe told them about recognizing the driver of the car Frank had gotten into and taking off after it. "That explains why your door was open," Biff put in but shut up at a glance from Phil. Joe ended his tale with falling out of the helicopter.  
  
"You're lucky to be in one piece," Phil hissed, his face white after listening to Joe.  
  
"Tell me about it," Joe replied dryly. "You're turn," he added, looking at him expectantly.  
  
Instead of being happy as Biff and Phil expected, Joe's face was creased in worry when Phil finished bringing him up to date. "We need to get in touch with Tony and Chet," Joe said. "I've already staked out the place. There's too many for them to handle."  
  
"We have talkies," Biff said, holding one up.  
  
"If we only knew what frequency the Assassins were using," Phil said. "Then we could chance getting in contact with them even though they must be very close by now."  
  
"Eleven," Joe said without missing a beat.  
  
"How do you know?" Biff asked, looking at Joe with a curious expression.  
  
Giving a silent laugh, Joe looked up. Biff and Phil followed his gaze to the tree tops, their own faces breaking out in smiles of amazed amusement when they spotted the three incapacitated Assassins.  
  
"Shh!" Tony hissed at Chet as they squatted, looking at the men surrounding a stone compound several hundred feet away through their binoculars.  
  
Chet had pulled his talkie off his belt and dropped it on the leaf covered ground. "We've got to warn Biff and Phil not to move in," Chet whispered, picking up the talkie. Before he could, however, a small sound erupted from it.  
  
"Phil?" Chet whispered.  
  
"Yes," Phil acknowledged. "Stay away from the compound," he continued. "Head back to the camper. We'll meet you there."  
  
"Roger that," Chet replied and hooked it back to his belt. "Let's go," Chet whispered to Tony.  
  
The two boys moved away from the fortress and back the way they had come. Roughly a quarter of a mile into their return trip, they came to a sudden standstill as a group of men, all armed and in camouflage, surrounded them. 


	19. Chapter 19

"Joe!" Callie screamed as he, Biff and Phil entered the camper. Callie had been trying unsuccessfully to kill time by reading a book. After over four hours, she was still on the first chapter so when the boys came in she was filled with nervous energy. She jumped from her seat and launched herself at Joe.  
"It's good to see you too," Joe said with a laugh as he hugged her.  
  
"Joe, about Frank..." she began, her face going from happy to worried. "We think he was captured."  
  
"By the Assassins," Joe finished for her. "I know. When Chet and Tony get here we'll work up a strategy to get him back."  
  
"What about your three captives?" Biff asked. "We'll have to go back and give them some water. It's been way too hot and humid for them to survive if we don't."  
  
"I know," Joe replied. "But I'd like to wait and see if they send reinforcements first."  
  
"You think they're going to?" Phil inquired.  
  
"When they fail to report in, I'm sure they will," Joe acknowledged.  
  
"But you took out three guys," Biff said. "With them out of the picture, they may send more than three."  
  
"True," Joe admitted. "But it would still be less than the number of men they have at the compound."  
  
"Divide and conquer," Phil said. "Joe, many more and you wouldn't have stood a chance."  
  
"Frank's in there. I had to try," Joe explained his actions. "Besides, you know my motto," he added, grinning as he repeated a phrase from his favorite movie. "Never give up; never surrender."  
  
"You look hungry," Callie said, looking at him critically.  
  
"Starved," admitted Joe. "Tree bark and a fish doesn't go very far."  
  
"That's all you've had since you left home?" Biff demanded.  
  
"And a pack of beef jerky I snitched from their camp," Joe acknowledged.  
  
"I'll fix you something," Callie promised. "And you can tell me what happened to you."  
  
"Can I wait for Chet and Tony?" Joe begged. "Then I won't have to repeat everything."  
  
Callie readily agreed, although her curiosity was killing her, and set about fixing lunch for everyone, sure they would all be hungry. And they were. Joe even gobbled up the portion she had fixed for Chet while Biff consumed Tony's share.  
  
After lunch was over, Joe went to lie down while Callie took care of the dishes and Biff and Phil went outside. "Chet and Tony should have been back by now," Phil said, worried.  
  
"Let's see if we can contact them," Biff suggested. He retrieved his walkie-talkie and tried to raise them but was met with only dead air.  
  
Another half an hour went by and still there was no sign of their friends. "Let's wake Joe," Phil suggested, his face grim. The two went back inside the camper.  
  
"Aren't they here yet?" Callie asked, seeing the worried expressions on the boys' faces.  
  
Phil shook his head then went to awaken Joe. Almost as soon as he left for the back of the camper, a car motor was heard outside. "Go in the back," Biff ordered Callie, going to the door and opening it.  
  
Outside was a jeep with four people in it. Biff gave a sigh of relief as he recognized the two in the back. "What happened?" he asked as all four exited the jeep. "Did you get lost?" he asked, putting up the pretense they had decided on earlier.  
  
"Definitely," replied one of the men with the two chums. "You were ordered to stay away form this area."  
  
Biff frowned, recognition dawning. It was Shorty from Conover. "How did your paths cross?" Biff demanded as they entered the camper.  
  
"They surrounded us on our way back," Tony said. "We're under house arrest, so to speak, until this thing plays out."  
  
"Which might be sooner than we think," Joe said, coming forward.  
  
"Joe!" Chet exclaimed, his brown eyes lighting up in delighted surprise.  
  
"Joe Hardy?" Shorty asked, looking at Joe curiously. "This unkempt kid was what all the fuss has been about?"  
  
"What happened to you?" Tony demanded, his dark eyes taking in Joe's disheveled appearance.  
  
"I'd like to hear the answer to that question as well," Shorty commented, crossing his arms and staring at Joe intently.  
  
"Who are you?" Joe asked, looking him in the eyes to let him know he was not intimidated in any way.  
  
"You can call me Woody," Shorty told him. "And that's Slade," he added, cocking his head at the muscular man with him. Joe nodded a greeting to the beady-eyed man with short straight jet-black hair before turning his attention back to Shorty.  
  
"Let's sit down," Joe suggested. "I could use some coffee," he added, looking at Callie hopefully.  
  
"Not a chance, buster," Callie told him firmly, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him. "I want to hear too."  
  
"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands up in defeat as he gave her a boyish grin. He should have known better than to try and get her out of the way during the discussion but he knew that once she found out about the helicopter she would feel obligated to tell Frank. Joe sighed, knowing Frank would have a few choice words for him about getting into that situation in the first place, but then, Frank would have to wait until Joe had finished his lecture first.  
  
Joe sat down and the others followed suit. When he finished talking, Shorty looked Joe in the eyes. "You have a plan," he observed. "Let's hear it."  
  
Joe kept his eyes fastened on Shorty's. He knew the response he would get from his friends, as he knew the response he would get from the Network agents. And it was the latter he needed for his plan to work. "I have to go back and let them capture me." 


	20. Chapter 20

"No way!" Callie shouted, jumping to her feet and staring down at him, her brown eyes smoldering.  
"Not a chance!" Phil told him harshly, glaring.  
  
"You're nutso!" Chet screamed at him. "If you think for one minute we're going to let you..."  
  
"I'm listening," Shorty said, ignoring the teens' outbursts.  
  
Joe paused, Biff had remained silent but Joe could feel his eyes boring into the back of his neck. Resisting the urge to reach back and rub it, he outlined his plan.  
  
"It just might work," Biff said when Joe had finished speaking. "But, then again, what's to stop them from killing you on the spot?"  
  
"Joe, here, is the icing on the cake," Shorty reminded the group. "He's the one responsible for capturing Assassins alive so they can be questioned. They don't want him dead."  
  
"Looks to me like that would be an ideal reason to want him dead," Callie commented.  
  
"Not if they believe he can be turned," Slade pointed out.  
  
"Then it's a go?" Joe asked.  
  
"Affirmative," Shorty confirmed. "Slade will stay here while I go and make the arrangements. In the meantime," he added, taking in Joe's bloodshot eyes. "Get some rest. You're going to need it."  
  
"What about the three guys in the trees?" Joe asked. "We can't let them go. They know I'm not alone."  
  
"They'll stay put until after you've been captured," Shorty said. "Your friends can show us where to pick them up. If questioned about them just say they're dead."  
  
Joe nodded and watched Shorty leave. Slade took a seat by the door and Joe went in back to take a nap that was preempted by his chums following him.  
  
"Joe, you can't do this," Callie told him. "Frank will never forgive you."  
  
"If I don't do this, he may not have the chance," Joe told her truthfully, his forehead creased in worry.  
  
"Then we should be the ones going with you, not those two and their cronies," Biff said. "You never included us in anything you mentioned."  
  
"Why?" Tony demanded. "Don't you trust us?"  
  
Joe checked the door and saw Slade looking out the window of the camper. "Of course I trust you," he said softly. "You're the only ones I do trust."  
  
"You're going to have to explain," Phil told him. "I don't understand."  
  
"Someone on the inside had to have tipped them off about Frank and the Gray Man leaving from our house," Joe said. "Otherwise, how would they have known to put one of their men as the driver?" No one answered him. "Their inside man won't miss this chance to nab me and take out some more Network agents."  
  
"You're double-crossing the Network?" Chet demanded in delight. He should have known Joe would have something up his sleeve. "What do you want us to do?"  
  
Joe looked back out at Slade then lowered his voice and quickly outlined his plan to everyone. "Do you think it will work?" Callie asked.  
  
"It's the only real chance we have of all of us getting out of this alive," Joe replied.  
  
"Come on," Phil said, looking at Chet and the others. "We better let Joe get some rest. He's going to need all his mental faculties to pull this off."  
  
Joe smiled gratefully at Phil as he ushered the others out of the small room, then lay down on the bed and fell asleep. It seemed like only minutes before he was being shaken awake but it had actually been several hours. Dawn was creeping through the small window as he opened his eyes. "Wake up, Kid," Shorty told him. "Your friends aren't going to let you out of here until you've been fed."  
  
By the time his captors returned, Frank's legs had given out and the wall was completely supporting his weight. "Ready to talk yet?" asked Wolfe, his face firm, but Frank could see the beginning of a smile at the corner.  
  
"Forget it," Frank rasped. He wasn't going to give this man any more satisfaction than he already obviously felt.  
  
Wolfe took Frank out of the room and shoved him roughly against the hard stone wall in the hallway. "I'm getting really tired of this," he snarled, his voice low but holding more threat than if he had screamed. "You think you're tired now, just wait." He released Frank and turned to one of the two men who had accompanied him. "Take him to Mike," he said as he turned and began walking away. A certain bounce to his step that no one could miss.  
  
Frank was hustled up the corridor then down a flight of steps and through another corridor to an open door. Inside, Frank could see a tall, gangly man with unkempt red hair and plastic frame glasses. The man took his middle finger and pushed his glasses up his nose as he gave Frank a smile that served to chill him even though he was burning up.  
  
"He's all yours," one of the men who had escorted Frank told the man. "Get what you can from him," the man continued. "The boss doesn't care what it takes."  
  
"Chain him up over there," Mike told them with a jerk of his head. "I need some more supplies," he added. "That last one pretty much wiped me out."  
  
"We'll keep an eye on him," the man promised as Mike exited the room. After Mike had left, Frank was shoved over to the center of the room where two chains hung from the ceiling. Each chain sported an iron bracelet and each man grabbed one with one hand as they yanked on Frank's wrists to bring them up to meet the warm metal. 


	21. Chapter 21

"Want to change and shower before you leave?" Callie asked Joe, her eyes unable to hide the worry and fear she felt that she might never see him or Frank again.  
"No," Joe refused the offer, smiling as he pulled her into his strong arms for a quick hug. "They have to think I've been hiding in the forest. Look, try not to worry," he continued, holding her by the shoulders at arm's length and looking down into her eyes. "The odds of rescuing Frank and saving myself are a hundred times better than they were yesterday."  
  
"That's not saying much," Callie commented wryly, looking down.  
  
"There's a chance. A good one," Joe insisted, squeezing her shoulders and causing her to look back up at him. "We've survived on less."  
  
"Bring him back to me?" Callie begged softly.  
  
"Count on it," Joe promised, kissing her forehead before he released her. Joe looked at his friends who were gathered in the small kitchen of the camper. Shorty and the other Network agents were waiting outside. "Everyone knows what to do?"  
  
"Are you sure one of them is an Assassin?" Tony asked.  
  
"I'd bet my life on it," Joe answered solemnly.  
  
"You are," Phil reminded him.  
  
"Yo! Boss!," Mike shouted, rapping lightly on Wolfe's open door and stepping inside. "Pete just gave me the go ahead to start killing."  
  
"That's right," Wolfe acknowledged, smiling.  
  
Mike quirked an eyebrow and waited for an explanation. Wolfe did not let him down. "Ward just informed me our inside man made contact with him. Joe Hardy is going to "allow" us to capture him thinking the Network will be ready to move in once the surveillance equipment he brings into camp lets them know the layout."  
  
"If they have security.." Mike began but Wolfe held up a hand to silence him.  
  
"Our man has already taken care of the equipment and the Network agents are in our sights even as we speak. Once Hardy is on his way back here, they will be taken captive."  
  
"All right," Joe said, stopping about a mile from the Assassin's camp. "I'd better go the rest of the way alone."  
  
"Good luck," Shorty told him, stepping back into the brush. A hissing sound emanated and he felt a pair of fangs sink into his leg just above his boots. With a cry, he fell backwards to the forest floor.  
  
Joe saw the coppery coil unwind itself and slither away before hurrying to Shorty's side. "Great timing," growled Shorty. "Copperhead?"  
  
Joe nodded. "Radio for an assist," he instructed, removing the pack of cigarettes he had taken from the Assassin by the lake on his first day.  
  
"They'll know what happened," Shorty said, "Your visual transmitter got it. Besides, we're too far in. I doubt I could make it out of here even if they did send someone in for me."  
  
"You will if we can slow down the poison," Joe told him, unrolling a cigarette and putting the bitter tobacco into his mouth. He repeated the procedure with what was left of the pack, then used his pocketknife to cut Shorty's pants leg.  
  
Joe chewed the tobacco until it was moist while Shorty radioed in for an assist. Joe spit the tobacco on the bite as Shorty signed off. "Hand me your bandana," Joe said, after spitting a few times to help rid his mouth of the taste.  
  
Shorty pulled it from around his neck and handed it to Joe, his expression curious. "What are you doing?" he demanded.  
  
"Making a poultice," Joe informed him. "The tobacco will draw the poison out and should give you enough time to make it to the hospital," he explained as he loosely tied the kerchief around the bite.  
  
"Shouldn't that be tied tight?" Shorty asked. "Maybe with a branch in it?" he looked at Joe's handiwork critically. "Shouldn't this be a tourniquet?"  
  
Joe shook his head. "A tourniquet will make you lose your leg," he said. "We learned in our first aid training that tourniquets should only be applied to stop severe blood loss...usually after a limb has already been severed."  
  
Shorty shuddered at the thought. "For a kid, you're pretty bright," he complimented the youth.  
  
"Thanks," Joe responded.  
  
"You can go ahead," Shorty told him. "I'll be okay until Slade sends help."  
  
"He's the one you talked with?" Joe inquired, his gaze narrowing on Shorty.  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
"Because he's an Assassin," Joe answered. Shorty looked incredulous. "I had you radio in," Joe reminded him. "How did he respond to your information?"  
  
"Surprised," Shorty admitted, frowning as realization dawned. "Your visual and audio transmitters aren't working," he stated the obvious.  
  
Joe shook his head. "And the odds are, if Slade was the one you talked to, then the other agents have already been captured." 


	22. Chapter 22

"You knew this would happen?!" Shorty accused Joe, his voice rising in anger.  
Joe moved his eyes and titled his head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgement. "Can I use your radio?" he inquired, reaching to take it from him without waiting for permission. Joe switched the channel. "It's go," Joe said into the speaker. "It's go minus one. Urgent package pick-up." Joe flipped the radio off without waiting for a reply, knowing his friends had turned on their walkie to the appropriate channel and had been listening in since he and the agents had left camp.  
  
"Stay put," Joe ordered Shorty. "Someone will be along for you soon. It's time for me to meet the enemy."  
  
Frank felt his wrists held tight in the men's grips. He mustered his strength and brought his legs up, flipping as the surprised men relinquished their holds.  
  
Frank fell into a somersault and was on his feet in seconds. Using his martial arts training, he had both men lying on the floor, unconscious, in seconds. Wasting no time, he hefted one man up until he could put one of the metal cuffs around his wrist. He repeated the procedure with the second man then walked to the corner of the room where a spigot was running. He bent down and drank some of the water then moved behind the door to await Mike's return.  
  
Mike came down the corridor whistling. This mission was turning out better than any of them had hoped. True, getting the Hardy boys was great but as far as he was concerned, they weren't nearly as important as the Network agents.  
  
No, the leader's desire to have Frank and Joe Hardy was personal; he was sure of it. Sure, Joe's right hook was legendary but he hadn't made a dent in the organization. Mike quit whistling as he neared the door to his work area. Okay, he could torture Frank until he died, but why was having Joe alive so important?  
  
He walked through the semi-open door, a rod used to create an electrical shock in his hand. Frank's fist slammed into the side of Mike's jaw sending him to the floor. The rod went tumbling across the floor, landing in the puddle of water that had the tips of the dangling Assassins' feet in it. The rod must have gotten turned on high as it went sliding because there was a crackling sound and the two men briefly regained consciousness as a wave of electricity ripped through them before they remained still.  
  
Unaware, Frank grabbed Mike and yanked him to a half standing position and brought back his fist for another punch; but Mike was ready. Before Frank's second punch could land, Mike raised his left hand and rammed it hard between Frank's leg.  
  
With a scream, Frank released Mike and fell to his knees but he did not let the pain detour him. His desire to avenge his younger brother served more to block any discomfort he felt than any painkiller could have. He brought his hands up just in time to stop a killer blow to his throat by grabbing the hand thrown at him. He twisted it as he stood, bringing Mike around so his back was to Frank. Frank pulled up on Mike's hand and pushed the man's elbow into his own back. Mike gave a muffled scream and began twisting. Frank, expecting this, hardened his hand and delivered a sharp blow to the back of his opponent's neck. Mike fell to the floor.  
  
"Gotcha!" shouted Ward, sneaking up behind Joe and shoving him to the ground. Joe rolled over and looked up. "Fool," Ward sneered. "Did you honestly believe your feeble plan would have any chance of success?"  
  
Joe shrugged, his face giving nothing away as Ward continued. "The other agents have already been taken captive except for the one who was bitten by a snake and remains waiting in the forest." Ward smirked. "One less agent we have to deal with." He reached down and grabbed Joe's arm, pulling him to his feet as four more Assassins stepped into view. "On your feet, Blondie. Your destiny waits."  
  
"Here he is," Biff hissed at Chet as he saw Shorty leaning against a tree, his eyes closed. He hurried over to Shorty's side. "What happened to you?" he asked. Joe's message had given no information other than Shorty needed help.  
  
"Copperhead," Shorty replied. "Your pal slowed the poison down then went ahead. He's dead, you know," Shorty continued. "Without backup, he'll never get out."  
  
"He has back up," Callie corrected him. "Us."  
  
"No offense, but you aren't enough," he declared.  
  
"Maybe not," Phil agreed. "But with all the Assassins believing they have nothing left to worry about, they won't be expecting anything."  
  
"True," agreed Shorty, smiling at the youths' ingenuity. "That was Joe's real plan, wasn't it? To get them feeling confident and then launch a surprise attack? It won't work," he continued. "You aren't enough."  
  
"But it isn't just us," Chet corrected him. "All the Network agents are there too. All we have to do is create a diversion. Joe and the agents can deal with the opportunity."  
  
Shorty broke out into a grin. "Go to it, then," he said. "Forget about me."  
  
"Not a chance," Callie said. "Tony and I are going to get you back to civilization and Phil, Chet and Biff will handle the diversion."  
  
"He'll need all the help he can get," Shorty insisted. "I'm not important."  
  
"Every life is important," Phil snapped.  
  
"That's why Frank and Joe will never be real Network agents," Shorty commented. "They believe that too."  
  
"We're wasting time," Phil said, deciding to ignore Shorty. He didn't like him anyway. "Get him to a hospital," he ordered Tony who nodded and bent down to help Shorty up.  
  
The friends headed toward the fortress, stopping when it came into view. "Everyone know what to do?" Phil inquired, unzipping his backpack and removing some dynamite that Tony and Biff had taken from the Network's mobile supply unit earlier without their knowledge.  
  
Biff and Chet nodded and set to work.  
  
"Well, I'm here," Joe told Wolfe as he was led in and shoved roughly into a chair.  
  
"I never doubted it," Wolfe commented. "And your timing is excellent, I might add. Our commander is arriving this morning. She has been most anxious to see you."  
  
"Your boss is a woman?" Joe demanded in disbelief.  
  
Wolfe broke out laughing. "Kid, you're right out of the middle ages," he said. "But, in all honesty," he added, "she has only been in charge for the past two years. Ever since the boss died."  
  
"Looks like she might not be doing such a great job," Joe commented. "Your organization seems to have been going downhill for quite some time."  
  
"I don't know why you are so important to our leader, but I don't question my orders," Wolfe informed him. "You are to be delivered, alive, and you shall be."  
  
"You didn't seem too concerned when I fell out of the helicopter," Joe commented.  
  
"Accidents happen," Wolfe declared bravely. Joe snorted in contempt and Wolfe's face hardened. "All right, Blondie. I'll tell you what I did after you fell. In order to try and gain some information to appease my commander, I began torturing your brother."  
  
"You son of a ..." Joe shouted, not finishing the sentence; rather launching himself out of the chair and throwing himself at Wolfe. Joe was quickly grabbed and forced back into the chair.  
  
"Lock him up," Wolfe ordered as a loud explosion ripped the air. He hurried out of the room to investigate as Joe was hauled to his feet.  
  
Joe was stunned. It was too early. Surely his friends hadn't set the dynamite off already? Now nothing would work. He groaned in frustration as he was hustled out of the office and down a corridor. 


	23. Chapter 23

As Joe was being led down the corridor he decided to give the plan a try anyway. Even if the timing was off, he had nothing to lose. He waited until they neared the corner at the end of the hallway then bent double and rammed himself into the Assassin nearest the wall. The Assassin's head cracked against the concrete and he put up no fight as he fell to the ground. Joe had already diverted his attention to one of the other men. He made a fist and brought back his hand as he raised up, landing a solid punch to the mid-section of another Assassin. A third grabbed Joe around the neck and began squeezing. Joe lifted his left arm and brought it back hard, connecting with the side of his attacker but the hold did not ease up. Joe lifted both hands to try and forcibly remove the arm from around his throat. He was weakening when the pressure vanished. Joe spun around and stared in shock as he saw who had brought the man down.  
  
Frank left Mike and the other two, still unaware of their fate, and closed the door shut after him. He was pleased to see the doors were locked only by deadbolts on the outside. This meant, he could easily free the other agents. He had only to unlock the doors that were dead bolted. He started his task, nerves causing his stomach to flutter but anger giving him strength to move. The first door he opened revealed two agents. Both had already been subjected to Mike's torture chamber but were still conscious if not very mobile.  
  
"I'm going to release the others," Frank told the men in a whisper. "Maybe some will be in better shape."  
  
"They would have to be," rasped one of the men. "They haven't had time to get at all of us yet. You work on freeing the others," he continued. "Rex and I will create a diversion."  
  
"Sure you can handle it?" Frank asked.  
  
"If we don't get caught before we get down the hall, we can," was the reply.  
  
"Good luck," Frank told the men before taking off. He continued on his way, unbolting every locked door he came to. He finished the bottom level, then headed upstairs to the next one, moving slower and entering each door he unlocked, more to pause out of sight in case someone came his way than to greet each prisoner.  
  
He had almost finished one pathway when a loud explosion rent the air. He smiled grimly; aware this was the diversion the first two agents had been talking about. He continued on, pausing at the corner as he heard someone coming his way. He glanced back, pleased to see that four agents had already joined him. Psyched, he was ready for the Assassins headed his way. But before they rounded the corner, there was a commotion. Frank peered around to see what was happening, expecting to see one or more of the Network agents taking advantage of the diversion and struggling to be free. What he saw instead froze him in shock...briefly. A ghost was taking down an Assassin. Another already lay unconscious on the floor. No! Not a ghost. He was losing!  
  
Frank rushed forward and hauled the muscular Afton off of his brother, using a pressure point in the back of the man's neck to bring him down. Frank looked up into Joe's eyes as the other agents reached them. Frank flew across the brief distance and launched himself at his brother, enveloping him in a strong embrace. "They told me you fell out of the helicopter," Frank rasped, his voice thick with emotion.  
  
"I did," Joe replied, grinning as he returned the hug then pulled back to look at his brother. "You didn't think I would die without killing you for this stunt, did you?" he demanded his words drowned out by another explosion; this one from above ground.  
  
"What was that?" Frank asked, unaware there were anymore free agents.  
  
"Chet and the others," Joe replied, a silly grin still on his face. "They are creating a diversion."  
  
"Well, that makes two," commented one of the agents. "Let's get busy and release the others," he continued. "We need all the manpower available."  
  
"Right," agreed Frank, grabbing Joe's arm and not letting him go. "You stay with me, though," he told him. "I am not letting you out of my sight until this is over."  
  
Joe shook his head. "For once, brother dear, I am in total agreement." His voice held a tone that caused Frank to wonder if Joe ever felt the dread associated with the unspoken promise of retribution for doing something wrong.  
  
"Shikes!" shouted Chet when the first explosion made itself known. "What caused that?"  
  
"I don't know," Phil stated, his expression grim. "But it's a sure bet Joe will think it was us. Hurry and get those charges set. We just moved the timetable up."  
  
The boys worked diligently and in almost no time were ready for their own diversion. Getting clear of the area, Phil detonated the dynamite. For the second time, an explosion was heard. It was easy to see the damage caused by this one. The boys had rigged the dynamite with fuses and laid them in around the southwestern perimeter of the camp. Although no actual damage was done to the fortress, the resulting noise had brought more than a few Assassins to the area. The other sides of the camp were now unguarded. The boys raced forward and made for the entrance.  
  
"Locked," Biff said, trying the door.  
  
"Get back," Chet instructed. He still had one stick of dynamite left. He lit the fuse and set it by the door then took shelter with the other two boys. In seconds there was a hole where the door had been. "Let's move!" he hissed loudly, leading the others inside through the smoking rubble.  
  
Inside things were not going well for the Assassins. The first explosion freed the newly captured Network agents; it having caused part of the building to collapse, and everywhere Assassins were being taken captive. Apparently, a great multitude of the men had not bothered with their cyanide capsules since this was supposed to have been an easy take over.  
  
The Gray Man came forward, his face drawn and his brow a bit fevered, but he was in considerably better shape than he had been the last time Frank had seen him. "You two get out of here," he instructed them. "We will round up the rest of the Assassins. Stan, George," he called out to two of the more healthy agents. "See to it these two get out of here in one piece."  
  
"Yes, Sir," they agreed at once. They knew better than to disobey their superior.  
  
"Frank! Joe!" came exclamations of delight. "You're both okay!" Biff, Chet, and Phil came rushing into the corridor where Frank, Joe and the others were and hurried over to them. Chet pulled Frank to him and gave him a hearty hug. "You know Joe's going to kill you now, right?" he asked.  
  
"I kind of figured," Frank confessed, looking sheepishly at Joe who was not hiding his displeasure but not voicing it either. He knew there would be an appropriate time and this was not it.  
  
"Before we go, I have a question," Joe said to the Gray Man before he could move away.  
  
"What is it?" he asked warily. He could tell by Joe's stance that there were going to be some changes in the relationship the Hardys now held with the Network and he wasn't sure if he was going to be pleased or not.  
  
"Wolfe said the Assassin leader, a female, wants me specifically. Alive. Why?" Joe asked.  
  
"Are you sure?" Gray demanded, his face breaking out into a perplexed frown. Joe nodded. "To turn you would be my first guess," Gray responded. "But dead would have been just as good," he added. He shook his head, unable to come up with a plausible reason. He looked at George and Stan who stood ready to escort the boys to safety. "Take them to headquarters," he ordered. "If there is more to the Assassins wanting Joe than his right hook, we'll find out from one of the prisoners. Until then, I think it best if we keep him off the streets."  
  
"What about our friends?" Frank asked. He already knew he wasn't going to leave Joe's side.  
  
"Until after they have been debriefed, they should go to headquarters as well," the Gray man responded. "But," he added to the agents, "keep Joe Hardy in priority one protective custody until we get some answers."  
  
Three days later, Chet, Phil, Biff, Tony and Callie were flown home, the camper returned the Morton home by an agent and Frank and Joe were sitting in the office of the Gray Man waiting for him to come and tell them what had been found out.  
  
Over their three-day confinement, Joe had lectured Frank repeatedly for leaving him out of the loop. The one thing Joe had not told Frank was the decision he had made in the helicopter. No. He was saving that one for the Gray Man.  
  
The Gray Man entered his office and took his seat. Frank quit pacing and sat down beside Joe who had not moved since they had been ushered into the office over an hour ago. "Well?" Frank demanded impatiently.  
  
"Wolfe escaped," Gray informed them.  
  
"Forget him," snapped Frank. "Have you found out why the leader wants Joe?"  
  
Gray shook his head. "No," he replied. "No one who did talk knows why Joe is so important. They only know that their orders were to take him alive."  
  
"Were?" Joe asked. "Not now?"  
  
Gray leaned back in his seat and spread his hands wide. "The only new information we have on the Assassins is that the arrest at camp was a major setback for the organization and they are not pursuing any path of retribution."  
  
"So we're okay to go?" Joe asked.  
  
"Looks that way. Until next time, anyway," Gray amended.  
  
"There isn't going to be a next time," Joe said. "As of now, Frank, nor I, are going to have anything to do with the Network or the Assassins."  
  
"But they killed your girlfriend," Gray reminded him. Frank and Joe may not have been welcome when they first started poking their noses into Network business but they had become a valuable asset.  
  
"And they nearly killed my brother," Joe said. "I will not lose anyone else I care about to the Assassins." He stood up and pulled Frank to his feet. "It's been interesting knowing you," he continued. "But don't call us and we won't call you."  
  
"Joe, we have to find out why they were after you," Frank said as he followed Joe from the building.  
  
"Why?" he asked. "It's over. We're done. Let's go home."  
  
Frank followed Joe to the waiting taxi that would take them to the airport. He didn't want to argue with Joe's decision about the Network. Quitting was a good thing. But he was positive it was far from over. The leader of the Assassins had gone to great length's to try and get Joe. He knew with a certainty she would not quit and until she was stopped, Joe was in constant danger. 


End file.
